Open Eyes
by smokeandfangs
Summary: Emma Morrison has learned not to let things surprise her. After all, finding out that you have leukemia at age 11 is probably as shocking as surprises can get. Now, 16 yrs old, and nearing remission, Emma finds herself in need of adventure. But she gets a bit more then she asked for, when she finds herself sucked into the world of Stiles Stilinski and his best friend, Scott McCall.
1. The Hospital

**Open Eyes**

The Hospital

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><p><em>Stay Strong, <em>_Stay Gold,_

_You don't have to fear, __Waiting._

_I'll see you soon._

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><p><strong>3 years earlier<strong>

It started in a hospital.

Beacon Hills memorial had been busy that day due to the hail storm that awaited outside of it's sliding doors. Each rain droplet drumming onto the plexiglass windowsills and rumbling throughout the halls as doctors tried to shout over the sound to reach each other with directions.

She'd been a young girl then. Only 11, with big green eyes peeking beneath dark whisks of hair that had slipped out of her ponytail, and had then fallen in her eyes. A book was placed firmly in her hands—Probably Sherlock Holmes, because at the time she'd been addicted to the idea of being a detective—as she tried to block out her mother bickering with her father on her cellphone.

It was supposed to be the scariest day of her life. The day they got the results from her blood tests. Once things calmed down, and the doctors were done tending to car accident victims from the rain storm pile up, she'd know whether or not she would be diagnosed with leukemia. It's not like she didn't know. Being a smart child, she'd been able to put the pieces together and know that something was very wrong with her. Then again she was only 11. Therefore, being able to truly understand the dark possibilities wasn't possible.

So, she sat in a state of partial blessed ignorance. Her mother bit away at her father's head in sharp whispers through clenched teeth, believing that as long as she looked to be on the phone, her daughter wouldn't understand that her parents were fighting. And she sat delved into her book, knowing she was close to completing the case with Sherlock, and saddened that it was almost over. Doctors rushed past the waiting room, looking stressed and exhausted—_soaked_. The overhead lights flickered as electricity threatened to fail under the harsh weather conditions.

All in all, it wasn't the best of locations for anyone that day. Even if you held the power of ignorance, you still felt the effects of the storm that loomed.

Chills ran up her arms, sending goosebumps to rise on them. She hissed in a breath, her teeth clattering slightly as her lip trembled. It had been the first distraction she'd had since they'd arrived and she'd shut out the world for the final chapters of her novel. Her eyes flicked up, focusing on the hectic atmosphere that surrounded her, and then she blinked. How she'd managed to ignore everything for as long as she had surprising her.

Another chill ran up her spine due to the amount of doctors and patients rushing though the front hospital doors, allowing the wind in. She closed her book, making sure to flag her chapter, and sat the book beside her. Clearing her throat, she pulled her sleeves over her hands and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around herself.

"...I don't care anymore. It's never going to stop, all of this—this lying it's never going to end," her mother's voice finally grabbed her attention long enough for her to zone in on what she was saying. "You should be here, but you're not. We need you _here_, not there." Her mom was going to cry. She hated when her mom cried over her dad.

Deciding she'd heard enough, she tilted her head to the side, resting it on her fore arms and looking around. She liked studying situations by just viewing from afar. Reading lips, body language. Giving original backstories to complete strangers based solely on their self presentation. It was always something she'd done to keep herself busy. Some people would consider it staring, but she just saw it as a way to prepare her for her future poker face when she became a detective.

The hospital, was a show on its own accord. She caught sights of two nurses fighting, later imagining them to secretly be spies under cover and running over their plan to blackmail a head doctor. Then, she watched as an EMT gripped the hand of the victim on the stretcher. He was giving the man the best smile he could come up with, even though it was clear from the amount of blood that it was not going to be a happy ending. Squeezing her eyes shut briefly, she tried to push that sight out of her head, shaking it gently.

She turned her head in the opposite direction, just in time to catch a young nurse with black curls clipped back, and warm brown eyes walk into the waiting room. Her hand was clasped around that of a boy looking to be her age. He had a mop of brown hair resting over honey-dipped eyes. He looked sad, as though he'd been crying, and he lifted the hem of his plaid button to his nose, wiping it. The nurse ushered him into a seat right behind her mother's pacing form, and she craned her neck to continue to watch him.

The nurse crouched down in front of him, and the boy sniffled. "...Your father will be here soon, Stiles. It might take awhile with the rain, but he'll be here soon enough, okay?" The nurse gave his knee a soothing squeeze, but the boy simply nodded. "Would you like me to stay with you until he comes?" The boy, _Stiles_, she presumed, shook his head this time, suddenly lifting his eyes to the young nurse and letting a tear fall.

"Does my dad know yet?" He asked, his voice trembled. "Does he, know that she's gone? That she's not coming back?" Another tear fell.

The nurse stared at Stiles for a long moment, before lifting her hand and wiping his tears. "Not yet. We couldn't get ahold of him. But, he will be here, I promise." The nurse then dropped her hand. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?" She asked once more, and he again shook his head, slightly pulling away from her.

"No thank you, Ms. McCall," Stiles began to pick at a hole in his jeans. "I just want to wait here alone for my dad." He swallowed, and the nurse gave him a short nod, explaining that she'd be back in an hour to check on him, before standing.

The woman looked as though she might cry when she turned from Stiles, and she cupped a hand over her mouth walking away hastily. Stiles sat numbly, staring at his hands in his lap. "Emma," her mother's voice broke her from her gaze, and her eyes shot up, looking as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. "What have I told you about staring at people?" She scolded gently.

Emma opened her mouth, before shutting it once more, trying to collect her thoughts. "That it's impolite," she stole one last glance at the sulking boy. "And rude." She focused once more on her mother. "Sorry, I guess I just zoned out. I'll stop."

Her mother inhaled deeply, "Never mind it now," she sat next to her. "Are you done with your book?" She asked, nodding to the abandoned object resting on the chair next to Emma. "Hmm?"

"Oh, no. I just needed a break. It's nearing the end and so I want to hold off on finishing it." Emma explained, rubbing her chin against her knee. "Will the doctors be here soon? I'm hungry."

"They'll be here soon enough," her mother lifted her palm, running it along Emma's hair. "Do you want me to get you something from the vending machine?" She offered, and Emma's eyes lit up.

"Yes,_ please_!" A smile graced her lips. "Reese's, maybe?" Pausing, she glanced over at the boy in the chair across from them. "_Two_." She added.

"_Two_ Reese's? Emma.." Her mother began to protest, never fond of her daughter's sweet tooth.

"Please, mom? Just this once?" Emma resulted to begging. Her eyes bore into her mother's.

Defeated, her mother gave Emma a smile. "Alright, just this once." She leaned over, pressing a kiss to her daughters temple, and leaving towards the vending machine.

Once more, Emma's attention found the boy. Only this time, he was staring back at her, eyes rimmed with red and raw due to the crying. Emma's eyes widened and she was taken aback as he looked as though he was seeing through her. He didn't flinch, even though he was aware he'd been caught. In fact, he seemed as though he had wanted to be. She crinkled her eyebrows.

"Hey," she began nervously. "I'm, I'm Emma."

For the first time, he seemed to focus on her. As though he'd just realized she was in front of him. "What?" He sucked in a breath.

"My name is Emma." She repeated, letting her knees fall and her feet plan on the linoleum hospital floors. "What's your name?" She acted as though she hadn't been listening into his conversation with the nurse and already knew his name. Still, he squinted at her suspiciously.

"Stiles." He stated flatly. "My name is Stiles." He settled back in his chair, trying to hide the break in his voice. Emma lifted the corner of her mouth.

"_Stiles_," she nodded knowingly. "Cool shirt." She motioned towards his Star Wars t-shirt, peeking out from his flannel.

He furrowed his brow at her, clearly confused as to why she was speaking to him. Could she not tell that he was upset? That he'd wanted to be alone? Of course she could. But, still she couldn't stop herself from making small talk with him.

"Thanks." He crossed his arms over his chest, looking away from her.

"You're welcome." Emma tucked her lips inward, not unaware that he lacked interest.

She glanced around, drumming her hands on her legs. Blowing air out of her cheeks she looked at the floor, and finally back at him. "I'm 11. You too?" She questioned, hoping he wouldn't ignore.

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes but didn't face her fully. "Yeah.." He stuck his tongue into his cheek, creating a small lump. "Why?"

"Just asking." She shrugged her shoulders. "I—"

"Not to be rude," he cut her off. "But I really don't feel like talking right now." His nose grew red with the warning of tears burning the back of his eyes.

Emma quickly closed her mouth, pressing her lips together tightly. "Right, I'm sorry." She ducked her head, her hair taking place in front of her eyes again. The curiosity continued to sit inside of her.

She risked another look at him, catching him just as a sob escaped his trembling lips. He lifted a hand, running it over his face. She winced, the sight of a boy her age crying, heart wrenching. With each cry his shoulders shook, and he did his best to try and silence his cries. Muffling them with his hands. He was so young, yet so sad. She assumed losing a parent could do that to a kid.

Knowing it was the complete opposite of what he had asked, she took a risk, wishing to speak to him again. "What was her name?" She asked softly, catching his attention. His crying came to an abrupt stop, catching in his throat.

"W—What?" His nose was stuffy, and his voice was nothing but a rasp.

"Your mom," she scratched at the nail polish on her thumb. "What was her name?"

His head snapped in her direction, multiple tears now falling down his flushed cheeks. His eyes were filled with recognition, and it was clear she had his full focus now. He seemed to have been wounded by the question, but after a moment he relaxed, wiping roughly at his tears. "_Claudia_."

Emma's mother rushed back into the waiting room, two Reese's packs in her hands and her chest rising in falling with each breathless intakes of air. "Sorry, the damn machine wouldn't take anything other then exact change. I had to dig through my purse." She plopped in her seat.

Emma continued to look at Stiles, giving her best smile. He looked from her to her mother, before turning in his seat, his gaze now away from her. Emma's mother caught on quickly, following her daughters eyes to meet the young man.

"I thought we weren't going to stare anymore?" Her mother asked, holding back her laughter.

"I'm not staring?" she pulled her head away from Stiles' direction, eyeing her mother, who gave her a pointed look. "I'm not!" rolling her eyes she stole a Reese's pack from her mother's grasp.

A man in a doctors coat walked into the waiting room, a clipboard in his hands. "Emma Morrison?" He called out, even though there was only one option as to who Emma could be.

Still, Emma raised her hand subtly. "That's me."

The corners of the doctors eyes crinkled with the smile that appeared on his face. "Hello Emma, it's good to see you again," he folded his hands together, tucking the clipboard under his arm. "I'm sorry for the wait. Would you follow me please?"

"Yes, of course we can," Emma's mother was already on her feet, collecting their things from their seats. "Let's go, sweetheart."

Emma looked down at the Reese's pack in her hands, eyeing it. "Hang on a second," she stood slowly, pushing her hair behind her ears. she chewed at the inside of her cheek, putting one foot before the other as she began to walk toward the troubled boy she'd only moments ago spoken to. "... Stiles?" she spoke his name, waiting for him to turn and acknowledge her.

For a few moments he sat stock still, staring ahead of him. Eventually the silence became too loud, and he lifted his chin, twisting his head to look up at her with questioning eyes.

Emma said nothing. Instead she put her arm out, the Reese's dangling in front of his face. He again sat quiet, but the surprise was evident on his features. When he didn't take the Reese's, Emma reached foreword, against the protests of her mother, and grabbed his hand, pulling it open.

He didn't argue, but let her separate his fingers, placing the packet in his hands. Then, she released him, leaving him at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry about your mom." she said finally. Those being her last words before her mother was pulling her away, sending quick apologies to the young boy who sat unmoving with his jaw propped open. Emma's hair fell out of its ponytail, and flew over her shoulder as she looked back one final time as they turned the corner.

Amidst his dried tears, raw eyes and sulking frame, the grieving boy slowly opened the packet, and pulled one out. That was all she needed to see to make her stop fussing, and continue to follow the doctor and her mother down the hall.

She wouldn't see him again for 3 years.

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><p><strong>AN: I really and truly hope you all enjoyed this. This is my first OC fanfiction, so your feedback is much important. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope to get the next chapter out to you as soon as possible. X**


	2. Something More

**Open Eyes**

Something More

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><p><em>I didn't know what was in store.<em>  
><em>When I walked right through the door.<em>  
><em>Then I saw you over there, our eyes locked in a stare.<em>  
><em>I didn't know quite what to say, <em>_sometimes words get in the way._

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><p>The next time she saw him it was <em>freshman year<em>.

The day she'd been waiting for. She'd spent the entire 3 months of summer convincing her parents that she was ready to go back to public school. Even though she was far from being in remission, and she looked like a child standing on her last legs. Still, her hair had grown a little past her shoulders now, and she was ready to get back into the world. Be a normal teenager. Well, at least as _normal_ as she could get, being her.

Someway or another, she'd gotten her parents to agree. Her father hadn't really given much input. Then again he never did. Her mother had come up with every worst case scenario that Emma had gladly proven to be less then acceptable excuses.

In the end, she ended up in the passenger seat of her mothers minivan, sitting in the Beacon Hills High School parking lot. Her heart pounded in her chest like a drum, and she gripped her seat belt as if it would keep her safe from whatever waited outside the car door. Students crowded around the school building, talking, studying, finishing up their summer work to the best of it's validity. It was like an entire new world was right before her.

Panicking slightly, she'd looked down at her outfit. Fitting in when everything about you stood out was a very important skill to have being her. So she'd gone for simple. A pair of black leggings over a pair of brown knee boots, a dark grey scarf over a red and black flannel, and a grey beanie to complete the outfit. After hours of trying on outfit after outfit, she'd chosen that one. And already she was starting to question it, along with her decision to return to the jungle that is public schooling. She'd seen mean girls, it's not pretty.

"Maybe you and dad were right," she said quickly, whipping her head around to face her mother. "I mean, it's just one more year, right? I can come back as a sophomore. When, it's better timing."

"Emma," her mother put the car in park, causing the bracelets on her wrist to clank together. "You have wanted this, for so long. Now, your dad and I are just as nervous as you are. But you were right, you're strong enough to handle this now.."

Emma rubbed her lips together, "..what if I'm not? Yano, what if I make a complete idiot out of myself and I don't know what to do?" She knew she sounded pathetic, but nerves were evil.

"Then you'll be just like every other high school freshman," her mother reminded her. "Honey, your not the only kid whose scared out of their mind about the first day at a public high school. You've got an entire class, who feels the same."

Emma sighed, before mumbling under her breath, "Yeah, right, I'm just the only freshman who has cancer." She twisted her thumb ring on her finger.

The air grew thick, and Emma winced, regretting the words just after she said them. The look on her mother's face was Grimm, and she hated herself being the cause of it. "Momma, I'm sorry.."

Her mother's eyes grew teary, and she turned to face the windshield, gripping the steering wheel. The topic of Emma's illness was one not taking very lightly in her family. Most people avoided it just to prevent what was happening currently. To admit that their child had what doctors were calling an eventually fatal illness, wasn't something her parents had found easy to accept.

"Well," her mother clicked her tongue. "Maybe we can just give this a try _today_, and if you don't feel comfortable, we'll resume home schooling." For her mother not to have turned the car on right then and driven them both back home, was a big development from the woman who'd spent the last 3 years not leaving Emma out of her sight.

Emma stared at her mother with slight surprise, but also with a newfound appreciation. She knew this was a big step for her entire family. Especially for her parents. And if her overprotective mother had found the strength to let her daughter out of the car, the least Emma could do, was open the door. So, she breathed in, sitting up straighter.

"Okay," Emma agreed. "We'll try this." She took a pause, remembering another important event that was occurring that day. "After all, we wouldn't want you being late on your first day back at the office." Her mother had spent the past 3 years being stay at home super mom, and when they'd all agreed to let Emma go back to public school, she'd decided it was time to start working again.

Emma had spent the whole night prior helping her mom decide on a dress to wear. They were all old, but having been rarely worn, they looked to be fairly new. Now, decked out in a burgundy knee length dress, covered by a black blazer, beige heels, and her hair down in loose curls, her mother looked stunning and ready to be one of the hottest attorneys in her jurisdiction. The perks of going to law school before having children.

Her mother beamed at the reminder she'd be returning to work. Helping people had always been a passion of her mother's, and the thought of getting back on the saddle was satisfying beyond anything else. "I suppose your right. I don't want to miss the opportunity to show every one how good of a stylist my daughter is."

Emma breathed a laugh, "Okay, enough, let's not boost my ego," she joked, leaning over and giving her mom a hug. "Thanks for everything, mom."

"Of course," her mother tightened the hug briefly, before giving her daughter a kiss atop her head. "I love you very much."

"I love you too." Emma hummed, pulling back from her mother's arms and placing her hand on the door handle. "Have a good day."

"You too," her mother said quickly, lifting a finger. "Don't forget to call me if anything happens! I'll find a way to get back in time, don't you worry." She said her last words just as Emma gave her a thumbs up and hopped out of the car. "Have fun!"

Emma closed the car door, turning around to wave as her mother drove off. She let out a gust of air she hadn't even known she'd been holding in, and twined her fingers around her book bag strap. "Okay, you can do this. Be normal. "Be.." She turned on her heel, facing the school. "Wow."

The school was now a lot bigger when she was standing right under it. And with the hoards of people surrounding her she felt minuscule as opposed to everything else. A lump formed in her throat and she could feel the anxiety beginning to swell inside of her. She stumbled a few steps backwards, not even realizing she was stepping over the curb until she was tripping over it.

She yelled, arms flailing as her body began to tip backwards. She awaited the feeling of cold concrete smashing against her frail bones, but instead found herself falling into a wall of fabric and skin-a person. Realizing she'd fallen into someone, she quickly collected herself, pushing off of the stranger and standing fully on her feet.

"I am _so_ sorry," She let out, cheeks rosy with embarrassment. "I'm such a clutz, oh my god." Covering her face with her hands she hoped to evaporate into thin air. "Oh what I would do for an invisible cloak right now." Word vomit. Great. Her hands dropped from her face. "Did I say that out loud? Im sorry, just please, ignore me.."

"Hey it's fine, anybody who makes a Harry Potter reference is considered a decent human being in my eyes," The person spoke humorously, almost chuckling. "Anyways, we're both still intact right?"

Emma finally looked up to meet the eyes of the voice, and found herself speechless. There, in front of her, was Stiles Stilinski. At least, he sure did look like Stiles Stilinski. Only with a buzz cut, and taller. Overall much more grown up then the crying boy in the waiting room 3 years ago. She'd never forgotten him. Seeing as she never forgot any little detail from the day she was diagnosed with leukemia. His eyes were still the same honey-dipped brown, and he was still wearing flannels with movie themed t-shirts underneath. Only this time, he was smiling, which was something she could admit she hadn't seen before. 3 years since she'd seen him, or thought about him, and yet, there he was.

"U-Uhm, right," Fumbling over her words, she lifted her hand subconsciously, pushing her hat into place. "Well, sorry again." She lowered her eyes, repositioning her backpack strap.

He furrowed his brow, a small lopsided smile taking place on his face. "Hey, haven't I seen you around before? Did you go to Beacon Hills middle?" He lifted his finger, shaking it in thought.

Emma's eyes widened, and she slowly began to look up at him again. She was unsure whether or not to tell him. Maybe that day was as bad for him as it was for her. Maybe just like her, he hated any reminder of that day, even if he considered the crazy girl who forced him to take a Reese's pack the smallest part of it. All of these "maybes" kept her in a debating silence for over a minute.

Stiles jutted his head foreword a bit, squinting his eyes. "Not much of a talker, huh?" He gave a firm nod. "Well, don't worry about it. It's the first day of freshman year, we've got 4 more years to try and talk," his voice was assuring and it soothed her temporarily. "I'm Stiles, by the way. Stiles Stilinski." Then, a car door slammed behind them, and he swooped his head around expectantly.

A young Hispanic boy was running towards them, his mop of black curls flopping with each step. He was in a green sweatshirt, and baggy dark blue jeans, that looked a little too big on his small frame. He was about 2 inches shorter then Stiles, which still allowed him to tower over her once he came to a complete stop. The car behind them honked it's horn and the kid groaned in annoyance before whipping around, his bag sliding off of his shoulder. "Mom, I gotta go!" He practically whined. Stiles snorted a laugh.

"You forgot your inhaler!" The woman called through the window, and Emma felt herself get smacked with more recognition, as she saw it to be the nurse with black curls from 3 years ago. _No kidding_. She'd thought. The annoyed kid ran back to the car, leaning through the window and snatching his inhaler from his mothers grasp. He then proceeded to glance both ways for an audience, before allowing his mom to kiss him on the cheek. She barely rubbed her lipstick off with her thumb before he was out of the window and running back to Stiles and Emma, wiping his cheek profusely with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

"Take care of him Stiles!" The woman pleaded from the car with a knowing smile.

Stiles lifted a hand in a partial salute. "Will do Ms. McCall!" He called back.

Then, her car was skidding off. Barely. The exhaust was spitting out the back, and the paint was chipped with rust. Scott scratched the back of his head, slightly ashamed.

"Still no money for the repairs?" Stiles cocked an eyebrow, twisting his lips.

"Nope," The kid blew air out of his lips like a horse. "Even if we did, there's still the roof, and the pipes, so, it wouldn't be the first on the list."

"Yeah," Stiles patted his hand on the boys shoulder. "Well, my dad's still offering to fix it up if your mom wants." He reminded.

"Thanks man, but I wouldn't hold your breath." He dropped his hand from his neck, and then in the break of conversation, he looked over Stiles' shoulder at Emma. Who, hadn't realized she'd still been in their presence until his eyes were on her. "Hey, who's this?" His question made Stiles turn.

"Ah, good question," Stiles laughed. "She practically fondled me a few moments ago, and she won't even tell me her name."

Emma's mouth dropped open. "—I did not!" She argued, issuing a chuckle from both boys.

"She speaks!" Stiles clapped his hands together.

Emma cleared her throat, realizing now they'd only been joking.

"I'm Scott," the Hispanic boy lifted his hand, stepping in front of a still chuckling Stiles. "You wouldn't be the first victim of Stiles' jokes."

"I'm," she hesitated, as Stiles allowed his laughter to fade and was now awaiting her response with a smirk playing on his lips. "Emma," she took Scott's hand, shaking it gently. "Emma Morrison."

Stiles' smirk slipped off of his face for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth in thought. Scott, unaware of anything, smiled brightly. "Emma Morrison! That's awesome." He dropped his hand from her grasp, resulting to shoving it in his pocket. "Are you a freshman too this year?"

Emma lifted her strap further up on her shoulder. "Uhm, yeah," she switched from foot to foot nervously. Stiles had yet to say anything. "Well I should probably go," she reached in her messenger bag, pulling out a piece of paper. "I have a meeting with the school counselor so.."

"Oh, really? Are you new to Beacon Hills or some thing?" Scott questioned, catching Stiles attention seeing as he was now looking at her again. "I mean, typically that's why you have to go to the counselors office on the first day, is if you're new to town, right?" He looked to Stiles as if he'd know. Stiles simply shrugged his shoulders as if to say he didn't. Emma assumed that wasn't true.

"..No, not exactly." She folded the piece of paper once more to give her hands something to do. "You see, I—" and then the bell was ringing, and all three teens broke their conversation to look up at the school doors, which everyone was rushing into. She looked back down at the boys who were still looking around, and then decided to leave while their eyes weren't on her. Turning quickly, she sped walked in the other direction, getting lost in the throng of students hurrying inside.

She could barely see over the hoards of book bag covered bodies, as they pushed past her, practically dragging her along with them. Seeing as she stood at only 5'2, she was easily hidden.

Once she'd been pushed through the front doors, she stole a glance back through the crowd. Sure enough, walking up the steps, were Stiles and Scott, looking around subtly for her, while still trying to focus on not tripping up the stairs. Stiles asked Scott a question, to which Scott shook his head shrugging, and Stiles sighed in defeat.

After a few more moments, Stiles looked up, and their eyes met. He did a double take, and then lifted his arm through the crowd, calling out her name. Emma simply ducked, once more becoming a chameleon in the student body.

She wouldn't speak to him again until sophomore year.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you to those who responded to the first chapter. It really is what inspired me to continue writing! Even just 4 reviews can spark hope in me to add another chapter. Although, I'm already writing the next as I'm posting this one! Thank you for reading again, and please continue to review! X**


	3. Time Repeating

**Open Eyes**

Time Repeating

* * *

><p><em>And me?<br>I've seen your eyes before.  
>And it's you and me?<br>I don't want anything more_

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

When she saw him again, he was different.

Emma closed her locker, the final bell of the day ringing sending a wave of relief throughout her body. She tucked her books into her bag and felt the heaviness of the day begin to weigh on her shoulders. It was a Monday, meaning that she had exactly 3 more days until she found out if the chemo treatments had worked this time around.

After missing practically her entire freshman year due to chemo therapy, she was happy to say that she'd felt better and more refreshed this time around. Going through chemo was tiring and was basically like getting your ass kicked everyday. But after 3 years, she'd gotten used to it. And she was just happy this time around she'd gotten to keep her hair, with a minimum amount of loss.

In fact, now done with chemo, her hair was well past her chest, and even was threatening to reach her middle back. It was thick, and bright, and brown, and she couldn't help but run her fingers through it at every chance she got. Living with leukemia has made her appreciate such small things like hair, and how much she had of it.

However hair wasn't the only thing that she was thankful to have. She also couldn't get over the fact she'd managed to survive her first year of public school. Sure, she'd missed a good portion of it, but the staff members who were informed of her health understood, and her fellow classmates weren't aware, and therefore didn't ask. It was safe to say her freshman year was pretty low key. Which was just as she had hoped it to be.

She ended the year managing to stay under the radar. With a good GPA under her belt loop, one or two people that she could call friends, and the sense of normalcy that she'd always craved. Upon her request, nobody knew her as the leukemia kid. In fact, to everyone else, she was as healthy as a horse. Now, 3 weeks in to her sophomore year, she was hoping to keep it that way. She was more so hoping that it would end up being the truth after she got her test results back, but one couldn't get their hopes up.

So, she resulted to focusing on the now, instead of the future. The future was too unreliable. Nothing was set and stone until it was too late to decide whether or not you wanted it to be.

Students rushed around her, hoping to get out of the school as soon as possible. You'd think with the way her peers reacted to school, that it was more of a prison then an institution of learning. She couldn't blame most of them. School was tough, and exhausting. But, again, it was another thing she'd learned to appreciate. Sometimes.

Currently, she wasn't so appreciative. If anything she wanted to run out of the school doors along with everyone else. Because, after seeing that she had talent, Emma's photo teacher spoke to the principal about Emma taking photos for the yearbook. And guess which sport was labeled as her first assignment?—_Lacrosse_. Also known as the one sport in which the infamous Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall partook in starting last year.

It wasn't that Emma was still avoiding the topic of reminding Stiles that she had been the crazy girl with the Reese's pack that fateful day 3 years ago. She was completely over that, and frankly, she doubted he remembered that day anyways. But it was more so the fact she was embarrassed due to the extreme lengths she'd gone to last year to avoid the two. And that, she was sure they remembered. Because every time they saw her in the hall, they looked at her like she had two heads. Which, was not the most comforting of exchanges when one is passing through the hall.

To sum it all up, Emma had realized how ridiculous she'd been, and was hoping she would never be put in a situation where she had to actually speak to Stiles or Scott, ever again. But, fate has a way of screwing people over. Especially, Emma Morrison. Who, decked out in dark red jeans, an over-sized grey sweatshirt that used to be her dads, a white beanie, and black and white vans, was now dragging her feet through the empty hall towards the doors leading out to the lacrosse field. Her camera was dangling from around her neck like a necklace, and she'd shoved her hands in her sleeves as she stomped out into the cool fall air.

She loved Fall. The weather was always cool enough to keep her comfortable and warm in big sweaters, while also not being too cold to the point she was at risk of catching a cold and making her illness worse. It was always a middle ground that was much appreciated by her and her family. Especially when she was so close to being in remission. The weather had to be on their side.

Still, the volume of noise slamming into her ear drum as she neared the lacrosse field, prevented her from focusing on her love for the season, and instead reminded her of her annoyance towards her purpose of having to be outside to begin with.

"Who takes photos of lacrosse try outs?" She'd asked her photo teacher in the dark room earlier that day. "I mean, honestly, once the season starts the photos will be pointless. The yearbook committee isn't going to use them."

"It's just so they can see your style, and whether or not you're a good pick to be taking the photos for the sports events," her teacher had informed, placing her photo in the developer. "Don't over think it. Just have fun, and do what you've been doing since last year. Taking great photos."

_Have Fun._ Emma wanted to laugh aloud at the thought of having fun, when all she felt inside was complete embarrassment. She could only pray she would blend in with the other students and parents who had come to watch tryouts, and not be forced to interact with the two boys.

Stopping in front of the bleachers, she looked at the seating options. First row was a no-go. Middle was practically almost filled. The top row was farthest from the field but not filled up enough. It was a conflicting decision, but she eventually tightened her jaw, clenched her fists and stomped up the bleachers to the top row, plopping down and instantly hissing as the coolness of the metal seeped through her pants. This was a mistake.

She rubbed her hands together, blowing heat into them as the players began to round up. She had yet to see the two boys, and after a while, she thought they may not come at all. That, after their sad season last year in which they spent the entire season being bench-warmers, that they'd decided to try another sport. Like, video games.

She wouldn't have minded their absence. In fact, she would have stood up proudly and taken the best pictures she'd ever taken just to show how much it had improved her inspiration to capture the essence of the lacrosse try outs.

But, like every other thing in her life, she got the short end of the stick. Proven, when the voices of two boys rounded the corner of the bleachers, drawing her attention to the image of a bickering, Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall.

Stiles had sweat collected on his forehead, and red splotches on his cheeks. He looked older. Or, as older as one could get over one summer. But other then that not much had changed. Same buzz cut. Same moles. Same eyes. Different attire, but it was lacrosse after all. Mock jerseys were required when it came to try outs.

Scott, looked the same. Only maturing a bit from his freshman baby face. He'd finally grown into his clothes, and he even managed to look put together, carrying his equipment with balance and confidence. Which, she couldn't exactly say for his best friend, who was struggling to hold onto his equipment whilst attempting to keep up.

"Dude you can't play," Stiles spoke breathlessly. "Who else am I gonna talk to on the bench?" He questioned. "Are you really gonna do that to your best friend?" His concern seemed genuine, but he still held the same knowing smirk she'd seen back on their first day.

Scott, looking serious, swung his lacrosse stick off his shoulder as they continued to walk towards the bench. "I can't sit out again, my whole life is sitting on the sidelines," he let go of his bag with a loud clunk, and Emma froze as Stiles' back ended up right in front of her section. "This season I make first line." Scott completed, determined.

Stiles got preoccupied with his unorganized equipment, practically tripping over his own gear as he tried to set it back together. Scott, didn't waste time, resting his lacrosse stick back on his shoulder and stepping onto the field. He stopped walking mid-way, turning ever so slowly, and looking directly at her. Emma sucked in a sharp breath, quickly lifting her camera to shield her face. When a small smile appeared on Scott's face, Emma frowned through the lens.

Scott McCall hadn't smiled at her like that since freshman year. Ever since she'd begun to avoid he and Stiles, their looks consisted of blank stares. He'd made it evident he was done trying to communicate with her in anyway. After all, they'd never been friends. They'd just had that one interaction before a year of awkward silences. He had to be looking at someone else.

She lowered the camera, glancing next to her. Sure enough, a tall brunette, with long loose curls and porcelain skin was smiling right back at Scott, just as she sat down to a very bundled up Lydia Martin. The same Lydia Martin who had always been apart of Emma's list of people to avoid. Ever since Emma had seen enough of Lydia's actions to decide she and her jock of a boyfriend were the epitome of what it meant to be horrible people.

The brunette looked nice at least. The way Scott was looking at her meant he more then likely agreed. From her brief moment of taking to Scott she assumed he was a nice enough guy to not be interested in a snob like Lydia Martin. She figured the brunette had to be different. Or at least she hoped. A lot could have changed about Scott in a year. He could be into the Lydia Martin cliche.

Turning her head back to face the field, she lifted her camera again. This time, actually snapping a few photos of players practicing their throws.

"McCall!" The coach shouted, and Emma felt her attention automatically drawn back.

Scott had stumbled backwards in surprise. "—Yeah?"

"You're in goal." The coach threw equipment at Scott off guard, leaving him to drop his previous gear onto the grass.

"Bu—I've never played." Scott protested, looking from the gear to the coach.

"I know, scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost!" The coach raised his eyebrows as if Scott should have known. "It's a first day back thing. Get 'em energized! Fired up!"

Scott shook his head in confusion. "What about me?"

"Try not to take too many in the face," the coach slapped Scott's face gently, and the boy stood dumbstruck as his coach turned to face the rest of the team. "Come on! Let's go!" He shouted.

Emma chewed on her bottom lip, squinting her eyes in a small glare towards the coach. She wasn't one to tell someone how to do their job, but she was pretty sure Coach Finstock was the asshole of all High school Coaches.

"Such a _dick_." She could hear Stiles grumble, as he ran a hand over his buzzed hair. A small smile broke on her face, and she tucked her lips in to stop it, lifting the camera up just as Stiles casually glanced over his shoulder to view the days crowd.

She followed Scott through her lens as he made his way into the goalies net, rolling his shoulders backwards then forewords. She was just about to take the picture when a voice broke her focus.

"Who is that?" The voice asked, coming from right beside her. It was light, and feminine. Only leading her to believe that it had come from the brunette from earlier. She was speaking to Lydia, who began to search the players for who the girl was referring to. Emma tried to refocus.

"_Him_?" Lydia nodded towards Scott, who was now tilting his head from side to side and ringing his hands at his side, trying to get pumped up. "I'm not sure who he is," she sing-songed, and Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. "_Why_?"

Then, in her lens, she watched as Scott's head perked up, as though he heard something out of the ordinary. He lifted his head in her direction again, only this time, she was sure he was staring at the girls next to her. He was looking at them in an odd way. As though he was listening to every word dripping from Lydia's lips. Emma lowered her camera for the final time, revealing her face.

"He's in my English class," the brunette lifted a shoulder innocently, and Emma watched as Scott tilted his head. Almost like a dog confused by a sound. Emma, without knowing, copied his action, at a loss for his reaction. Why was he being off?

Suddenly, the whistle sounded, and Emma felt herself jolt in surprise, being pulled out of her thoughts. Scott, dropped to his knees on the field, cupping his ears in pain as if he'd just heard a bomb to off. Lydia, who had been pushed in the process of Emma jumping, sneered at the girl.

"Could you maybe not bump into me, loser?" She said in a tight whisper, that Emma proudly ignored. The brunette, placed a hand on Lydia's arm, urging her to calm down. "Allison, you're new so I'll just inform you a bit about myself. I don't liked being touched." Upon the word, Lydia twisted her head back around to stare at Emma.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be sitting on a set of bleachers, surrounded by people within shoulder length of you." Emma retorted, not giving Lydia the satisfaction of a glance. When the strawberry blonde simply gasped as if Emma had stung her, she lifted the corner of her mouth in victory.

"Oh, come on!" Stiles' voice rang throughout the air, and all three girls, along with the coach, found themselves searching for what he was complaining about. "Coach! That toss wasn't fair! They knocked him out! He clearly wasn't ready!"

Emma snapped her head, looking towards the goalies net just as Scott stood up from the grass, shaking the dizziness away. "It's fine! I'm fine!" He called over, re positioning himself and raising his stick. Stiles made an annoyed growling sound, bouncing his knee, seemingly fed up with watching his friend be publicly humiliated without penalty to those who caused said humiliation.

"You should take a picture of that," Lydia laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "So the whole school can see why we keep him on the bench."

Emma rolled her eyes, closing them along with a frustrated sigh. She pressed her lips in a firm line, trying to push the thoughts of how much she hated Lydia Martin out of her head. Lydia Martin had been the stick in her shoe since her second week of freshman year. Lydia and she had been assigned as lab partners, and Lydia made sure to make the entire period hell for her. Hours on hours were spent being mocked for the way she dressed, how her hair looked like a disaster, the fact that she was sickly thin and pale and gross. All of the worst things a person could say to make a person feel less about themselves, Lydia had said to Emma. She'd never said much about it. But her transformation over the summer had been enough to shut Lydia up the first day back. She wish should could say the same about today.

Instead, she focused back on the try outs, wishing that they would be done with warm ups soon enough so that she could actually take some practice photos and scurry off the field before she was pushed into an awkward situation.

Wincing, she cringed as another player began their run and leap, to throw the ball at Scott. She watched as the ball spiral towards him, and wanted to almost close her eyes to avoid seeing him miss the catch. But, taking her and everyone else by surprise, Scott caught the ball without effort. He barely even swayed to try and catch it.

He cautiously looked down into his net, scared he'd just imagined it. Emma's mouth dropped open into a wide smile. Everyone around grew silent, aside from Stiles who nodded frantically.

"Yeah!" He shouted, excited for his friend.

Scott was far, but Emma could see him beaming from the net as he twisted his stick around his back and tossed it back to the player. She quickly captured the moment with her lens, chewing on her bottom lip to hide her wide smile that was growing. Maybe it was the fact that she'd been one her whole life, but seeing underdogs push through, was always worthy of a smile from her.

After the first shot, each player grew more intense with their throws, seeming to be more angry then confused as to how Scott McCall had suddenly become one of the best goalies they'd seen in a long time. Stiles continued to whoop and holler with each catch, while the team, the audience, and Coach Finstock, stood with their mouths agape. Speechless. Was it that hard to believe?

"He seems like he's pretty good," The brunette, Allison, said through a slight smile. She was looking at him with awe in her eyes, but unlike everyone else, she looked like she'd known he had the capability to be good from the start.

Lydia squinted her eyes in a displeased glare, nevertheless letting it slip into a look of genuine surprise. "Yeah, very good.." She admitted. Not without nervously darting her eyes around to make sure she wasn't in earshot of anyone that she didn't want to hear her admission.

With a irritated blow, Jackson Whittemore pushed one of the players aside, stepping in front of every one to get the next shot at Scott, who's shoulders slumped in dread as he watched Jackson step foreword. It was no secret. Jackson Whittemore was a lacrosse legend at Beacon hills. He was the first freshman to ever achieve co-captain. He made sure that everyone was aware of how good he was though, making him a class A-asshole. Emma was pretty sure he stepped foreword with no other intentions then to put Scott to shame.

Jackson lept foreword, with such agility, that Emma struggled to stable her camera as she lifted it, not able to keep up with his pace. She watched as he pushed off the ground, twisted his body, and thrusting his stick foreword, allowing the ball to release and fly through the air towards a very jittery Scott. Stiles was slowly edging on the end of the bleachers, nibbling on his thumb nail as he along with everyone else watched the ball fly. It swirled through the air with a swoosh, whipping past the audience and landing into Scott's net with so much force, he threw his foot behind him to keep himself balanced.

It took a moment of silence for everyone to realize what had happened, but as Scott lifted his stick to get a better view, the audience erupted at the sight of the ball in his net. Scott McCall had stopped Jackson Whittemore's shot, with barely even a reach of his arm. Emma shot upward subconsciously, letting her camera fall back around her neck to clap along with everyone else.

"That's my friend!" Stiles screamed, turning to face the crowd with flailing arms and a cheek to cheek grin that had no means to suppress.

His honey orbs traveled over everyone briefly, even catching Emma as she stood with her hands cupped over her mouth, shouting praises. He turned back to face the field breathlessly, and then whipped back around, doing a double take as he watched the familiar girl continue to cheer.

"Emma?" He said a little too loudly to himself. Hearing her name, she frowned, stopping mid clap, and looking around for who had called her. It didn't take her long for her to meet the eyes of the lanky lacrosse player, who was staring at her as though he was looking at a ghost. "You're..."

His voice trailed off, drowned out by the whistle being blown. "Alright, I think we've seen enough try outs today! All of you go hit the showers! We'll continue this tomorrow!" The coach informed, and Emma dropped back onto the bleachers. A sense of déjà but fell over her as she felt herself hiding behind the standing bodies of the crowd surrounding her. She face-palmed herself. _Idiot_.

"Jackson!" Lydia screeched, as her boyfriend rushed off the field, clearly upset. "Jackson, wait!" She tripped over Allison, her heels betraying her as she hurried off the bleachers to catch up with him. Allison raised her eyebrows, turning to look at Emma with a look of exasperation.

"Is she always like that?" She asked, taking one last look over her shoulder at Lydia who was being shrugged off by a very fuming Jackson.

"Only when it comes to that guy," Emma twisted her lips, nodding. "Or at least, from what I've seen. Lydia and I don't know each other much."

Allison's mouth formed an 'o' shape, as it dawned on her that Emma and Lydia weren't friends. "Right," she let out a nervous laugh. "Well, I'm Allison," she stuck out her hand. "I'm new."

"Emma," Emma clasped her hand around Allison's, giving it a firm shake. "I'm old."

Allison's eyebrows knitted together, failing to grasp her joke.

"I was,—making a dumb joke," she dropped her hand from Allison's, rubbing the back of her neck. "That was bad on my part."

"Oh—No, I'm sorry!" Allison began to apologize.

"No, don't worry about it. It was a shitty joke any ways, I'm glad you didn't catch it." She smiled reassuringly. "So, where are you moving from?"

"Hmm?—Oh, we just moved from San Francisco," She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb as if it was just around the corner. "My dad's job requires us to move around a lot, so it was sort of spur of the moment."

Emma placed the lens cap back on her camera. "Wow, so I'm guessing you didn't really get a say in ending up with us Beacon-ers, huh?"

"Not really," Her eyes twinkled with humor. "But this town seems really nice, I'm happy to see what it has to offer." She tried to recover, but Emma was already shaking her head.

"Not much, I can tell ya that," The camera lens snapped on with ease, and it was then that Emma realized the bleachers had practically cleared out and she suddenly remembered what she was doing moments before she'd engaged in a conversation with the new girl. "Oh! Crap! I have to go," she began to stand, pulling her bag up on her shoulder. "Sorry, it was nice meeting you."

"Oh, yeah, you too," Allison tried her best to respond to Emma's unexpected departure. "I'll see you around, maybe?"

"Yeah. Sure," Emma waved her hand hastily, "Bye—"

"—Emma!" A voice called over the bustling of people leaving the field. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to stop herself from groaning. "Emma Morrison—hey!—wait up!" She slowly turned, her face scrunched up as she caught sight of Stiles, struggling to collect all of his lacrosse gear for the second time that day. Eventually he gave up, letting it all tumble to the ground, and stepping over it.

"_Dude_," Scott breathed, motioning towards the equipment. "What the hell?" His voice had risen at least another octave. Clearly confused as to why his best friend had just mistreated the equipment that they'd both known was too expensive to replace.

"You know _him_?" Allison sat up a bit straighter, looking at Scott no doubt.

"Not exactly," Pausing, she thought about that answer. "Actually,—No. No, not at all to be honest." She said, not turning her focus from the spastic boy stumbling towards her.

"Emma, hey!" He breathed, stopping a few steps away from the bleachers and squinting up at her against the suns rays.

"Uhm, _Hey_.." The way she said the word seemed as though it pained her, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and die for her lack of ability to play it cool. She could practically feel Allison's eyes boring through her back. "What's up?"

"Do you remember me?" He licked his lips, picking at his lacrosse glove. "I'm,—Stiles,—Stiles Stilinski? We met—"

"—Freshman Year," Emma completed for him, and his lips shut tight. "Yeah, I remember you." Stiles looked as though he hadn't been expecting that answer, looking around him briefly at loss for words.

"Well, alright then," He chuckled. "Uhm," Another chuckle. "I'm glad we've confirmed that we've met before," Scott was beginning to walk up behind Stiles, carrying both of their equipment. "—for a moment I was beginning to feel like you were just a figment of my imagination that day." Emma blinked, finding the irony of his words. She could say the same thing about their day in the hospital.

"Stiles," Scott grunted, nudging the boy with his arm. "Please take your stuff."

Stiles jerked his head to the side, looking at Scott. "What are you?—_Dude_, I was gonna pick it up in a sec." He began reaching over to grab each piece of equipment.

"I'm sure you were, but I have to work the night shift tonight at the vet, remember?" Scott's face twisted in slight pain as he pushed another heavy piece of equipment into Stiles' hands. "We gotta put this stuff back in the locker room so you can drive me."

A look of realization dawned on Stiles, and his eyes practically popped out of his head. "Oh, Shoot! You're right. Sorry man, I forgot about that." he pulled his strap over his shoulder, tightening his jaw at the sudden pressure.

Scott finally turned his head to look up at Emma, and even went so far to crane his neck, looking around her frame to see Allison. His pupils dilated, and he instantly snapped back into a straight position, his cheeks blushing red. "—I didn't realize you were talking to people, my bad," Scott cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. Emma snorted a laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll meet you in the locker room I guess," he kept his head down, sheepishly peeking back up at the girls. "Nice to see you again Emma," he paused. "_Allison_." Before Allison could respond, he was already jogging off the field, and Stiles slapped a hand to his face.

"Oh, I taught him so much better then that." He muffled through his hand.

Allison released a giggle, and stood shortly after. "Well, I should get going. Thank you, for the small talk Emma," she gave the girl a nod, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Good luck tomorrow." she offered Stiles, and then she picked her bag up off the metal seating and proceeded to step up and walk away. Emma followed with her eyes, wishing that they'd been closer friends so she could have used that as an excuse to leave the situation that was folding out in front of her.

"Thank you!" Stiles called after Allison, and then he turned his attention back to Emma. They both stared at each other for a long moment, looking like that hadn't a clue of what to say to one another. Truth was, they didn't. He had no more of an idea of how to start a conversation with her, then she did for him. It was the exact reason she'd avoided him the entirety of freshman year. Something about him being connected to the worst day of her life, and her being connected to probably the worst day of his, without him being aware of it, made her weird. It had always made her weird. And he was always there to witness that it made her weird. He just didn't understand why. For some odd reason though, there he stood, looking up at her, trying to find a way to continue their non-existent conversation. She had to give him props for trying. It must have taken a lot of courage for him to try and force a conversation on a girl who thus far had treated him like he was something to be afraid of. "—So, uhm," he spoke finally. "How have you be—.."

Emma had decided it was enough before he'd even been given a chance to finish that train of thought. "—..Don't you have to drive your friend to work?" She reminded him. It was rude, and inconsiderate to cut him off, whilst making it very clear she wasn't interested in conversation. But she wasn't prepared to delve into the catch-up talk that she'd personally found unnecessary.

"Uh—Yeah, but—" He licked his lips anxiously. "—Well, I thought we could talk for a second first. This is the first time you haven't ran off somewhere to hide from me since the first day of Freshman Year," he lifted one shoulder to his ear. "I figured it was now or never.."

"..." Emma opened her lips to say something but only closed them, confused on what he meant. Finally she figured out how to phrase her response in her head, and wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "Now or never for..._what_?"

He seemed to ponder her question, looking as though he was debating whether or not to answer. Then, he relented, letting his lacrosse bag fall off his shoulder, and crouching down to unzip it. Emma frowned, looking around as the lights on the lacrosse field suddenly seemed brighter, the afternoon slipping away. She scratched the fabric of her beanie impatiently, awaiting the answer to what Stiles could possibly be doing, digging through his lacrosse bag. "...For me to finally get the chance to say," He pulled out something, and stood, covering it with his lanky fingers. "Thank you." Then, with a flick of his wrist, he brought the object into sight, and Emma froze where she stood, her heart jumping into her throat.

In his hand, was a Reese's packet.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As I'm sure you can tell by now, I can not stop writing this story. Although I'm sure writers block is awaiting me just around the corner. This chapter was a bit longer then usual, but that's because I had to take the time to incorporate the show, as I will be doing for most of the chapters. This story is mainly based in Season 1, but I'm not one to stick to order. After all, this is fanfiction, I don't have to. So you may see a few characters added in a little earlier then they were in the TV series. But for now, I hope you're happy with what I've written. Those of you reviewing, are awesome, and I want to thank you for the kind messages! Although, I think I'm gonna hold off on posting another chapter until I get a few more reviews. Don't worry, I'll still be writing all the chapters. I'll just post them after I receive a bit more feedback, seeing as I take all comments in consideration and find feedback a necessity. Thanks again for reading, I hope you guys are having a good week! X**


	4. Complicated

**Open Eyes**

Complicated

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><p><em>Sat up in the dark for so long<em>  
><em>Just livin' my life on my own then<em>  
><em>Right up out of the blue<em>  
><em>Bumped into you<em>

* * *

><p>It wasn't until the end of the week, that she spoke to him.<p>

After his reveal of the Reese's pack, symbolizing his memory of her, that she hadn't even known existed, she'd promptly sped walked down the bleachers, and away from him as fast as her legs had allowed her too. It wasn't because she was upset. It was because she was in shock. He had remembered her, and he had remembered her since the first day last year. An entire year she spent avoiding him for absolutely no reason. If she had thought she was embarrassed to speak then, she was completely wrong. Because now she knew what it really felt like to be embarrassed and it was not something so easily hidden.

She could barely look at Stiles when she passed him in the hall. To him, it wasn't a surprise. Her ignoring him had been an everyday occurrence. But to her it now meant so much more. She just wanted to scream at her stupidity. But in her defense, she'd done it all to make sure she would not be the cause of his un-comfortability. Still, there was no way she could explain why she'd avoided him now without looking like a over analyzing dumb ass who should have just fessed up sooner. Maybe then she wouldn't have felt the need to run from a boy who was genuinely thanking her for something she'd always thought was the dumbest decision of her life.

She found herself thinking about it all throughout her day. In AP Econ, Molecular Biology, and all the rest of her classes which she more then likely should have been paying attention in. Instead she found herself zoning off, thinking of how much her past year would have been different if she would have known that he had known the entire time. By lunch time, she'd driven herself mad, and she practically slammed her locker shut in frustration.

"Whoa," Allison's face appeared just as the locker closed, and Emma gasped in surprise. "Bad day, I'm guessing?" She hugged her books close to her chest. She'd only met Allison briefly yesterday, and being social had never been her best quality to begin with. But, she knew more then most what starting over in a brand new school felt like. It wouldn't kill her to be friendly.

"_Allison_," She tried her best smile. "What can I do for you?.."

"I just wanted to come say Hi," She picked at one of her book covers absentmindedly. "See if you wouldn't mind sitting with me at lunch?"

Emma almost choked on her own air. "Sit with you? At lunch? As in, in the lunchroom?" She asked for the clarification.

"Yea," Allison nodded, her curls bouncing. "Lydia asked me to sit with her and her group, but I'm not too sure I'm ready for that crowd yet. They seem like a lot to deal with and I'm a big fan of," she tried to think of the right word. "Settling in."

"Ah, I see," Emma began to walk down the hall. "Well, don't worry about that. If she asked you to sit with her crowd that must mean she likes you. Therefore you'll probably get asked again, until asking becomes nagging, and eventually you'll find yourself at the table." She said thoughtfully.

"Have you done this before?" Allison laughed.

"No, but I'm really good at being the fly on the wall," she made a peace sign, and then put it back and forth from her eyes to the hall. "I've got eyes, everywhere." It was meant to come off as joke, but at the same time it was very true. Trying to blend in has lead Emma to pretty interesting discoveries. She knows a lot about the people who claim to be something they're not in school.

Allison held in a bit of her laughter, letting her arms fall in front of her as they continued to walk through the busy hallway. "So," she began. "Those guys from yesterday," Emma was already beginning to fidget, knowing what was to soon follow. "You said you didn't know them at all?"

"Yeah, not really, no.." She repeated the same thing she'd said yesterday, trying to keep her story consistent. "Why, do you?" She realized the question was stupid. Of course she didn't, she'd just gotten to the school yesterday, how could she? Nevertheless, Allison tilted her head.

"Well, no, not really.." She paused, "But I did have an interesting night last night with the shorter one," Emma turned to her with wide eyes. "Scott."

"Wait, you what!?" Emma didn't hide her surprise. What on earth could they have been doing the night of the first day they'd ever met? "I'm lost."

"It's kind of embarrassing," she groaned, but it was very clear she wanted to tell the story. "I was driving home, and it was raining, and I ended up hitting a dog." They entered the cafeteria and Emma had to turn her back to the room, so every eon wouldn't see her horrified look.

"Oh my god, Allison!" Emma was not sure how Scott fit into the story yet, but she was intrigued to find out. "Was it okay!?"

"Yeah, I mean, well no.. It got a sprained leg," Allison winced, cupping her neck. "I felt horrible about it. But- I rushed it to the nearest animal hospital I could find and low and behold.." She glanced over Emma's shoulder. "Scott, was there. He works at the Beacon Hills vet."

Emma remembered Scott had been rushing Stiles along the day earlier due to him having to get to work. "Oh, that's right.." She nodded. "Well that's just a crazy coincidence, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's crazy, right!?" Allison stood on her toes briefly, and then settled back down. "Anyways, I bang on their door, just before closing, completely hysterical. And Scott waltzes over to the door, sees me. I tell him what happened, and then he pretty much saved the night," she breathed. "He managed to calm me down, and patch the dog up. Then somehow..." Emma urged her to go on. "Somehow it ended with him asking me to Lydia's party this Friday." She pursed her lips, trying to hide her excitement. "And I may have said yes.."

"_Friday_? You mean as in _today_, Friday? As in _tonight_?" Emma pointed to the ground.

Allison nodded sheepishly.

Emma's eyebrows shot up on her head, and she couldn't fully grasp the situation just yet. Allison had been so excited whilst explaining the story, it was as if she'd been talking on fast forward mode. The clanking of trays hitting the lunch tables surrounding them was what tore her from her daze and she slowly placed a smile on.

"Wow, that's," She breathed a laugh. "That was definitely interesting." What was she to say now? ".. Congrats, I guess? You've beaten the record for how many new girls get asked out on a date their first day at a new school." Yeah, that'll do.

Allison's cheeks grew red, and she sucked her cheeks in, her eyes glowering. "I don't even know how this happened. It was just," she looked up, thinking for a word. "Spontaneous, yano?"

"Spontaneity is definitely something to make a girl bat her lashes," Emma said sarcastically. "Points for Scott McCall." That, wasn't sarcastic. She actually gave the kid props. He seemed to be typically shy. She couldn't imagine the courage he must of had to gain to ask Allison to be his +1 to one of the biggest parties of the school year.

"Tell me about it, I felt like such a girl," Allison rolled her eyes, walking ahead of Emma as a way to complete their journey to one of the empty tables near a window. "But I guess that's not such a bad thing, considering I am a girl.." She said the words as though it held a different meaning in her head. Like a joke Emma wouldn't understand.

Emma sat down on one of the lunch benches, swinging her bag off of her and using it as an arm rest atop the table. It'd been a long time since she sat in the lunch room. Typically she opted for the library or the photo dark room. Any place where she could enjoy the silence and be productive.

"So, are you excited then?" Emma asked, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Should I be?" Allison looked doubtful.

"Yes, of course," Emma smiled. "I mean Scott's a nice guy as far as I know, and Lydia's parties are always the talk of the year, so you should have fun." She gave a short nod. "Try to enjoy it all."

".. Have you ever been to Lydia's parties?" Allison pulled out a plastic baggie of carrots from her back pack, and pulled it open gently. "I mean, I could only imagine.." She bit into a carrot, looking up at Emma as she chewed.

"Me? No." Emma shook her head dramatically. "Trust me, I am nowhere near being even on the waiting list for an invitation to her parties."

"You really don't like her, do you?" Allison asked.

"It's not that," Emma tried, not wanting to alter Allison's opinion of the girl. She failed. "Well, no, actually it's _exactly_ like that. We just don't.._click_."

"Oh," Allison closed her mouth, swallowing. "Is she secretly evil or something?"

"I don't think she's honestly as evil as she tries to be, but for the most part she can be..hard to get along with," Emma sighed, leaning back in her chair. "But don't let that change how you feel in terms of becoming friends with her. You and I are two different people. She may actually like you!"

"No worries," Allison placed another carrot in her mouth. "Until Lydia starts being a complete bitch to me, I'm just gonna go with the flow," her chest rose as she breathed in deeply. "After all, like you said, it could just be some sort of act."

Emma tucked her lips inward. "Glad to see you have a mind of your own. Most people have lost that trait around here. Especially new kids."

Allison wiped her mouth just as she was beginning to smile in thanks, taking Emma's words as a compliment. Emma lifted one of her legs up, hugging it close to her as she sat. Silence fell around the two, but it wasn't anything that made them feel uncomfortable. Eventually Allison pulled out unfinished homework, and Emma began to doodle in her art book.

It was halfway through lunch when Allison finally closed her binder, and crumpled up her now plastic bag. "I can't look at homework anymore," she breathed. "I'm already beginning to miss summer when it was nowhere near my radar."

"Yeah, high school is unkind that way," Emma's tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on the finishes touches of her doodle. It wasn't something that was extravagant. Just a simple cartoon. But she was always a perfectionist. she had her mom to thank for that. "Did you finish though?"

"Pretty much," Allison nodded. "But, the school knows I'm still in the process of unpacking, so I hope they'll understand."

"The school is pretty lenient with stuff like that, so I'm sure you should be fine," Emma closed her book, stuffing it into her bag. "At least, I assume."

Allison shrugged it off, crossing her arms on the table and leaning foreword. "It's fine," she flicked her head, letting her hair fly over her shoulder. "So," she began, looking nervous. "There's no chance of you going to the party, I presume?"

Emma lifted her head from her chin, snorting a laugh. "Was that a serious question?"

"I'm going to take that as a no?" She winced, scratching the back of her head. Emma quickly shook her head, placing her hands on the table. "Oh, c'mon, please! It's going to be so weird for me if I go there knowing nobody but Scott!"

"You'll know Lydia, and Jackson... And then they'll introduce to their friends. And their friends' friends. It's a pattern really. You don't need me." Emma found it pretty simple to understand.

"But I don't enjoy their company as much as I enjoy yours," Allison flattered, practically leaning over the table. Emma rolled her eyes. "Plus, it will go over so much better if Scott isn't the only one picking me up to go to a party. I mean my parents are pretty cool, but they're not that cool."

"Say you're going as friends, I'm sure they'll get over it.." Emma tried, knowing Allison would more then likely continue to persist. "I don't do parties."

"Emma, please? You're like my first friend here, it would make me feel so much comfortable to have you there," Allison was resulting to begging. She even pouted a bit as she finished.

Emma gaped for a brief moment, slipping into a questioning smile. "We're friends now?"

Allison looked as though she'd been caught in the headlights. "Oh! Is that okay?"

"I mean I did sort of have lunch with you, So, I guess it's kind of mandatory." Emma's playfulness seeped through her voice. "But friends or not, I can't do parties. Especially ones hosted by queen Lydia and her followers. And I don't have anything to wear...the list of reasons not to go is infinite."

"Well, one, you could totally borrow something of mine," Allison began to offer and Emma tried to protest that she was a good inches shorter then her, but she promptly lifted her hand. "And, you won't be there for Lydia, you'll be there for me."

Emma allowed her to finish but was quick to express her earlier concern. "Great, but one, I'm at least 6 inches shorter then you, and two, you and Scott will be so busy getting to know each other, it would be as though I had decided to go alone." She concluded, deciding she'd won.

Allison pondered over Emma's argument, her lips pursed. ".. Okay. I got it." She perked up. "One, I have some stuff of my aunt Kate's. She's pretty much your size if I can remember, and I know she wouldn't mind. She's like a sister to me," Her dimples grew deeper as her smile widened. "And two," she paused, looking over Emma's shoulder. "Scott's friend, will just have to come with us."

Stiles. "Scott's friend" was Stiles. And Stiles was someone Emma had left looking like he'd been slapped in the face for doing something nice, yesterday on the lacrosse field. Someone she'd gone back to ignoring after he'd admitted he'd remembered her from 3 years ago. She couldn't go on a group outing with him to Lydia Martin's party. Just to be left alone with him and forced to make conversation that would lead to the obvious elephant in the room. No, she refused. She would not go. No matter what Allison said she was going to hold her ground and stay home.

"_Fine._" Emma blurted, and she instantly slapped a hand over her mouth. Allison's eyes practically popped out of her head. "No, no, I didn't mean—"

"—Oh no, there is no way I'm letting you take it back now!" Allison pointed a finger at her and Emma dropped her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. "You said 'fine' which means some part of you wants to go." Emma was already shaking her head. "_Stop_!"

"You stop! I don't want to go! It just slipped out because I was tired of hearing you beg me to go." Emma rolled her eyes, gathering her things.

"Is it really so bad if you were to go!? I mean, you said it yourself the parties are the talk of the year, and besides, Scott's friend can't be that bad-" Emma was quick to cut her off, shrugging her bag up on her shoulder and stopping in her place.

"His name is Stiles." She corrected, before she continued to stand and move away from the table. "And speaking of which, I don't want to force the kid to bring me to a party with him, just to stop you and Scott from having an awkward first date!" Emma tightened her grip on her bag strap.

Allison quickly stood, hobbling around the table and stopping in front of Emma who sighed heavily and looked up at her. "Look, I know I'm probably making you question why on earth you agreed to eat lunch with the annoying new girl who won't take no for an answer but," Allison looked around. "I've never been on a date before. I don't know the first thing about boys, and what they like and what you're supposed to do on a first date so," Tightening her arms around herself she lowered her head. "It would be really nice to just have the one person who has been truly nice to me, there at the party in case I end up looking like an idiot."

Emma stayed silent briefly, going over Allison's final statement in her head. She didn't know the first thing about boys or dating herself. In fact she was probably worse off then Allison when it came to that subject. However, she knew more then anyone what it was like to be the new girl. And what it was like to not know how to fit in. So, she couldn't imagine the pressure Allison was under now that a date with a lacrosse player was added onto the list of things that could go wrong being the new girl at a high school party. Only knowing Allison for 3 days, she knew the girl somewhat. At least enough to know she was so shy that it enabled her, and she probably would be eaten alive at the party if left alone for too long.

So, she breathed in deeply, and bit down on her bottom lip. "Oh, I can't believe I'm saying this," she muttered to herself, tilting her head up to the ceiling and then focusing on Allison. "_Okay_."

"Okay?" Allison popped her head up, eyes wide.

"Yes, okay, fine. I'll go to the stupid party." Emma repeated, trying to keep her voice down. She could see Allison's face lighten up and she was quick to stop her. "But don't expect me to stick around until ungodly hours of the night. I'll stay for 2 hours, tops, and then if you're not comfortable being on your own by then, then you probably want to rethink a second date with McCall."

Allison released what sounded like a squeal, before pulling Emma into a hug. Emma wasn't sure how to respond, so she slowly lifted her hand and patted Allison's back awkwardly. "You are a life saver!" She said into Emma's hair.

"Alright don't get all cliche on me," Emma pulled away, straightening her shirt. "Don't forget my rules still apply no matter what," Allison quickly nodded, trying to control her excitement. "Also, I'm still not going with Stiles. I'll just go stag. He doesn't need to be brought into whatever this is."

"I can't thank you enough!" Allison lifted her hands, and then tucked them to her chest. "I won't ask you for anything ever again! Promise!"

"Sure you will. Just next time I won't accept. This was your one 'I'm new so I can get away with begging' free card, and you just used it." Emma informed, just as her phone buzzed in her pocket.

"So, should I let my parents know you're coming over after school to borrow an outfit then, or..?" Allison tried to read an answer off of Emma, who was already pulling her phone out to check the id.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I have to run home before I go though, so just give me the address in Bio, and I'll head over whenever." Emma saw the ID to be her mother, and she pressed answer before Allison had time to say anything else. "See you later."

She hurried out of the cafeteria, and pressed the phone to her ear. "Hey mom," Emma had been awaiting the call all week. "What's the verdict?"

It had been just 2 days since her doctor had told them that her test results had come back, and he would be giving her mother a call on Friday to let them know whether or not Emma's treatments had worked. She'd felt anxious all day about it, amongst other things. Her mothers line was quiet.

"Mom?" Emma asked once more, nervously.

"_You're cleared_," her moms voice was tearful. "_The scans came back and you're all cleared._"

Emma's placed a trembling hand over her mouth and tears filled her eyes as she stumbled back against a locker. The halls were empty due to most of the students being in the cafeteria, and she couldn't be more thankful. "I'm.. I'm cleared?"

"_You're officially in remission baby girl_," her mother cried out, and Emma could hear her dad's cheerful laughter in the background.

Emma breathed out, a smile appearing through her tears, and she let out a sob. Tears poured out of her eyes and she felt her knees grow weak. She had never been so happy in all her life. She was cancer-free. "I can't believe this," she managed to get out, and she placed a hand on her face. "Oh my god, I'm actually in remission.."

"_You're father and I are coming to pick you up,_" her mother said after she blew into a tissue. "_We are going to celebrate._" Emma nodded to herself, still crying, before she remembered Allison, and she quickly tried to pull herself together. "_Honey?_"

"Sorry!" she said a little too quickly. "That is kind of perfect actually, because I was going to ask you guys something." She stuck her thumb through the loop of her belt buckle, trying to fight the tears of joy that were ready to spring from her eyes. Happy or not, a teenage girl crying in a hallway was not exactly the ideal situation to get herself in. Next thing she'd know she'd been in the consular office viewing therapist referrals.

"_Ask us, what?_" Her mom asked, curiosity ringing in her voice, and Emma felt guilty for even thinking of the party as a possibility. This was a night to celebrate with her family. The years of fighting the cancer, and struggling to pay for their bills because of it were finally over. She had two more years to go to a high school party. It wasn't every day that you beat cancer. "_Emma?_"

"Nothing. You know what, it's not important." She shook her head, sniffling. "What time will you guys be here?" She began to walk towards her locker, prepared to grab her things and wait in the front office for her parents to pick her up.

"_We were just about to leave,_" Her mothers smile was evident in her voice. "_Your father and I took off the rest of the day, and we're all going to go out for a family linner._" she explained happily.

_Linner_ was their version of lunch/dinner mashed together into one word. It was one of the many original words in the Asher family dictionary.

"Sounds great," Emma pressed her phone on her shoulder as she tried to balance it and open her locker at the same time. "I'll see you in a few."

Her mother said her goodbyes, and Emma tore the phone away from her ear and shoved it into her pocket, happy to have both hands back to put her things in her bag. She felt a shadow hovering over her, and she hesitated before turning.

"Hey," It was Scott McCall, in all his glory, with a animated smile on his face, and his cheeks pressing his eyes into slits. He had a loose green sweat jacket over a dark blue shirt, and faded black jeans. His backpack was sliding off of his shoulder as he stood in front of her, and she could practically see his nerves rising on his face.

"Hi, Scott?" She closed her locker slowly and sat her bag down in front of her to pull on her cream cardigan. He still held that smile. "Happy much?"

His smile faltered and he looked down, raising his hand to massage his cheek. "I was trying to come off as polite," he muffled. "It's very painful."

"I'd assume so with a smile as hard as that," she laughed, her voice sounding nasally from her previous state of crying heavily in the hallway. "Is there a reason you were trying to seem polite?"

He dropped his hand from his face and pulled his his sleeve up to his elbow. "Well, I saw that you were talking to Allison," Of course that's what it was about. "And I heard that you're coming with us tonight." He looked surprisingly relieved. "And I just wanted to say thank you." The last part was practically a whisper, and she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She asked.

"I said, thank you," he paused. "For agreeing to come. Stiles was complaining about showing up to the party alone because I ditched him for Allison, but now you're going with him, and that's really nice of you, cause I can tell you don't really enjoy his presence—or mine for that matter.." He trailed off as he realized he was losing the point.

"Oh, no, actually I was just going—" She began to try and tell him about how plans had changed and going to the party was no longer on her agenda, but he was already continuing his speech.

"—I don't say that to make you feel bad or anything, it's your decision not to be friends with us," Scott looked like a lost puppy, and Emma's shoulders slouched as she continued to watch him. "But it's really cool of you to agree to do this. Stiles doesn't know I'm talking to you about it, so don't worry." The bell sounded above them, and they both broke eye contact, looking around the halls.

"Scott, look," Emma sighed, and Scott brought a smile back to his face.

"You don't have to say anything," He lifted his bag on his arm and raised his eyebrows. "I should probably go fail Econ," he chucked. "See ya!"

And then he was gone, leaving Emma leaning against her locker, with nothing but a look of exasperation on her face as the students walked around her. She felt guilty for possibly ditching on going to the party with Stiles. However, that was a situation better off avoided as it was, and after all she just found out she was in remission. She owed her family linner after all they'd been through. Letting out a groan she turned around and placed her forehead on her locker. Unsure of how one day of communicating with people had landed her in a complicated situation, and with friends she wasn't sure she wanted.

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><p><strong>AN: Wow guys, I asked and you delivered. Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and feedback. It really pushed me to get this one out. I'm so excited to continue to share the world of Emma with you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's a bit longer then usual, but I felt like we should get some more insight into the types of relationships Emma is finding herself forming unexpectedly. In most OC fanfictions I read, most of the characters automatically are friends with everyone, but I wanted Emma's intro to the group to be a bit more awkward to make it feel more real. We all have those people who we find ourselves in the middle ground of "are we friends?" with. Thank you again for reading! Your reviews are most definitely appreciated so I hope to see more of them! Have a wonderful week guys. I take the SAT this Saturday. YIKES. X**


	5. Party Mishaps

**Open Eyes**

Young Blood

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><p><em>We're only young and naive still<em>  
><em>We require certain skills<em>  
><em>The mood it changes like the wind<em>  
><em>Hard to control when it begins<em>

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><p>She'd chosen the dinner.<p>

Her parents had been so ecstatic about the news, and she had to be honest with herself she was in no state to go to a high school party. Especially when she was going in and out of a state of shock and overjoyed every other 10 minutes. The tears were endless, and by the time she was standing in front of her mirror, prepared to go to linner, she was afraid they wouldn't stop. She quickly waved a hand in front of her eyes, looking up anxiously.

"What are you doing?" Her mother laughed as she leaned on her door frame, clad in blood red dress, black heels and necklaces hanging from her neck. Her mother didn't dress up much outside of her work, so to see it was refreshing.

"I'm trying to stop the tears from ruining my make up. I swear liquid eyeliner is falsely advertised." Emma wiped under her eyes quickly, smoothing her hands along her face. "I'm a complete mess."

Her mother pushed herself off the door frame, smiling to herself as she watched her daughter. "You are not a mess. You're just a teenage girl struggling with the famous battle of tears versus makeup," she bent down, picking up a makeup wipe from her vanity. "We all face it eventually."

Emma pouted slightly, before allowing her mother to clean up her makeup for her. "Why must make up be such a hassle?" She grumbled, fidgeting.

"Because wanting to look pretty has a price, just like everything else in the world," her mother rubbed her lips together, concentrating as she finished up the last touches of Emma's eyeliner. "There. Eye makeup is officially done."

Emma turned around, facing her mirror with more confidence. "Thank you momma," She looked at her mother through the reflection. "Now I don't look like a clown." It wasn't a far off comparison.

"You didn't look like a clown previously," Her mom always had a way of denying her child could be anything but beautiful. Emma figured it came with being a mom. "Even if you did, you made a pretty one. A clown worthy of the Joker."

"Hmm, Heath Ledger or Jack Nicholson?" Emma quirked an eyebrow, challenging her mother.

"Heath Ledger, of course." Her mother gawked. "Even though I should punish you for forcing me to go against my famous husband Jack."

"I'm sure dad will appreciate my diversion from Jack," Emma giggled. "But good choice. Heath always wins, and always should win."

"God, you're just like your father. Always so damn serious about Batman." Her mother stood fully in the mirror, flipping the ends of her hair in thought.

"Just because it's not Robert Downey Jr. In an iron man costume doesn't make it any less of a franchise." Emma glowered, picking up her dress.

"Anything that lacks Robert Downey Jr. is less of a franchise," her mother said pointedly. "He's also another one of my famous husbands."

"Speed round. Jack or Robert?" Emma loved the spontaneous games she and her mother found themselves playing. Most of the time they didn't make sense to anyone else, or to themselves for that matter. But it always was time well spent.

"Uhm," her mother paused briefly, and the door bell sounded throughout the house. "Saved by the bell. Hold that thought." She raised her hands, hurrying out of the room with her heels clicking behind her.

Emma stared at the girl in the mirror now that she was alone again, and felt the urge to cry once more. She'd changed so much from that fragile girl with a typically fatal disease. She'd survived treatment. She'd lived to tell the tale, and the whole idea that she'd made it through sent a wave of emotions flooding over her. She smiled, her eyes glistening with more tears that she refused to let fall. "You did it," she whispered to herself. "You really did it." Clearly too happy to focus on anything, she tore her gaze from the mirror, shaking her head, and trying to get back to getting ready. She still had yet to get dressed.

She walked over to her closet, pushing her hair behind her shoulders as she looked over her options. She wasn't typically a dress wearer but tonight was special. So, she pushed all of her clothes to the side, searching for the one thing she'd been saving for this day. Last year, when she started her final rounds of chemo, she and her mother had went shopping for a remission dress. It was silly, she was aware, but it had instilled a hope in her that otherwise was being eaten away with each ounce of medicine being placed into her through a tube each week.

They'd gone from store to store, not exactly sure what they'd been looking for. After all, Emma's hair was still in the process of growing back and nothing she was going to try on could make her ignore the reflection of a very sick girl going through hell in the hopes of getting better. But then, on their way home, they'd passed by an old thrift store, with lots of old trinkets and clothes.

Her mother had practically dragged her inside, and she'd browsed around, twiddling her thumbs, and sure she wouldn't find anything. When suddenly, at the back of the store, hanging on a rack, was a Marc Jacobs, print by jersey dress. It was black and flowy, with red and purple designs lining it. An X cutout back, and it hung on her perfectly. She'd felt beautiful for the first time since she'd begun to lose her hair, and she had sat in the dressing room crying for half an hour before she collected herself enough to buy it.

Now, there it was, hanging in her closet. It's been collecting dust, but it was still as beautiful as it had been that day in the store. To others it might have looked simple, but to her it was so much more. Pulling off her t-shirt and gym shorts that she'd been wearing to do her makeup in, she slid into the dress and hurried back over to the mirror.

She tilted her head, pulling at certain parts, and fixing the strap up on her shoulder, before tucking her hair behind her ear and smiling. Beautiful.

"Honey," her mom poked her head in the door, her draw dropping as she took in her daughter. "Oh, baby, you look gorgeous." She sighed.

"Thank you," Emma dipped her head, her smile breaking through once more. Her mother continued to stay silent, her eyes growing teary as she looked at Emma. "Mom, weren't you saying something?" She lifted her head again.

"Hmm?" Her mom asked not even taking her eyes off the dress. "_Oh_! Right," she laughed. "You have a visitor downstairs." She informed.

Emma furrowed her brow. "A visitor?"

"Of the male nature," Her mom nodded. "He kept babbling and tripping over his words, but for the most part, I'm pretty sure he said he was looking for you. He called me , how formal."

Emma hurried past her mother, dress twirling slightly around her knees as she rushed down the stairs barefoot. Her father was in the kitchen messing with one of his cufflinks, and he stared at her wide eyed as she flew past him. "Emma?"

When she finally reached the door, she swung it open breathlessly, her hair falling around her face. On the porch step, with his back turned to her, was Stiles Stilinski. He jumped once she opened the door, whipping around with a gaping mouth. He was clad in a grey blazer over a purplish pink shirt and dark red tie. He looked a bit too fancy for the party she assumed he was on his way to. He stared at her as though he hadn't expected to be caught so suddenly, but soon enough let his eyes look over her. Emma crossed her arms around herself, feeling self conscious.

"Stiles, what are you doing here?" She looked behind him and then met his eyes.

"Wha—Uhm, I," He was fumbling over his words just like her mother had said. "Apparently I'm supposed to be giving you a ride to Lydia's?"

She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall next to her and frowned. The party had started an hour ago, what was he doing on her doorstep? Had Allison not told him about the change of plans due to her family linner, that was now more so dinner then anything else? More importantly—

"—How did you find out where I live?" She rested a hand on the door knob.

"School directory," he said as though it wasn't a big deal that he'd spontaneously showed up on her door step. "...Why do I get the feeling that you didn't know I was coming to pick you up?"

"Because I didn't," She snipped, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Ugh, I asked Allison to tell Scott so he could tell you."

"Well, Scott and I kind of got in a fight earlier today, so if he was supposed to tell me something I'm pretty sure it failed to cross his mind." Stiles twisted his lips, reaching up to scratch his neck.

"Great, well, now I'm going to feel like a complete asshole," Emma muttered, breathing in deeply. "I no longer need a ride to the party, because I am no longer going to the party.." She explained, feeling the guilt begin to rise in her throat like bile.

Stiles' mouth propped open slightly, and then he shut it closed. "Oh—Okay," he nodded, swallowing and looking down. "Yeah, no. Figures. I mean," he laughed. "That makes sense, yano—cause I'm _me_ and you don't—well." Emma watched as he shoved his hands in his pockets, caving finally and meeting her eyes. "Sorry for the confusion."

"No, Stiles, it's not because of you—" Emma tried.

"—Emma?" Her fathers voice was now over her shoulder, and she turned to see him staring at Stiles with a questioning look. "Who's this?"

Emma looked back at Stiles. "Him?"

"No, the other boy standing on our porch." Her father said sarcastically before leaning over her and sticking out his hand. "Mark Asher. What's your name kid?" Stiles jumped forward, slapping his hand against her fathers and giving it a firm shake. She placed an exasperated hand on her face, letting it slowly slide down. _This was not happening._

"Stiles Stilinski, sir." Stiles' voice squeaked as he said 'sir' and she could practically feel her father judging him for it. "Sorry to have interrupted your family.. I can see you all are clearly busy.."

"To what do we owe this interruption?" He asked, and Stiles looked up at Emma who was shaking her head wildly. Her father turned to her, and she stopped, shooting him an innocent smile.

"W—Well, uh," Stiles stumbled again and Emma felt the urge to slap him awake. "I just had a question, about the math homework, and uh, Emma is the only one in class who seems to know what she's doing so.. Since I didn't have her number I figured I would just.. Show up."

"Dressed like that?" Her father nodded to Stiles' attire, and Stiles ran his fingers down his blazer lining, laughing nervously.

"Yes, because—I was on my way to an event, and I figured I could just grab some of her notes before I left since if I came after dinner it would be past curfew and id have no way of getting here." Boy was Stiles good at lying through his teeth.

Too bad her father was a lawyer.

"Right." Her father squinted his eyes, turning to over his shoulder. "_Clarissa_!" He called to her mother, who soon after came trailing around the corner putting her earrings in.

"What?" Her mother, _Clarissa_, asked expectantly.

"This boy says he's here to pick up math notes from our daughter, dressed in a blazer and tie with dress shoes, what's your verdict?" He asked almost as though they were all in court.

Stiles was beginning to sweat, and Emma could practically see his regret of coming to her house on his face. She wanted to dig in a hole.

"Definitely guilty," Clarissa finished putting the back into her earrings and then dropped her hands. "What's the real story kid?" She placed her hands on her hips, and Emma groaned.

"Do you have your license?"

"Where were you planning to take our daughter?"

"What are your intentions with our daughter?"

"Do you have your license on you? Let me see it."

"Are you a virgin?"

"_Guys_!" Emma screamed finally, stepping between her parents and Stiles, her cheeks flushed and her neck red with embarrassment. "He wasn't here to take me out okay!? There's this huge party tonight, which, I didn't tell you about because I wasn't planning on going. And this girl at school begged me to go, so I said yes before we got the news and decided to go to dinner. But Stiles had already been told to give me a ride to said party, before anyone told him that the plans had changed, So that's why he's here." She dropped her hands, exhausted from her explanation. "Now can we close this case please and go to dinner?"

Everyone stood silent for a good 10 minutes, before her parents gave each other a look and turned to smile at a very nervous looking Stiles.

"Sorry for the interrogation, We'd been saving that for Emma's first date," Clarissa placed a hand on her chest, and Emma practically died. "Which, you clearly are not, now that we've cleared up the situation!" She quickly tried to correct herself.

"—What my wife is trying to say, is that we are sorry for our actions, we are not typically like this," Mark pitched in, and Emma had to refrain from clawing her eyes out as Stiles looked back and forth from her to her parents. "Where is this party exactly?"

"Uht.." Stiles was speechless briefly, and then he finally formed words. "Lydia Martin's house?"

"Ah, we know the Martins.." Clarissa beamed, looking up at her husband. "Remember your firm handled their divorce just a few years ago.."

"Oh that's right we did," Mark said in thought, and then he looked back down. "Will there be drugs and alcohol at this party?"

Stiles once again looked as though he was going to spit out his vocal box. "I'm not sure. Although, it is Lydia Martin so..._ Probably_?"

"Are you planning on drinking and driving?" Clarissa lifted her chin.

"I would never. My dad's the sheriff. He'd kill me." Stiles informed them, nothing but honesty and assurance in his voice. Even Emma was surprised by how quickly he'd stopped seeming like a nervous child, to a serious young man. He stood up straighter, and didn't avoid eye contact. _Impressive_.

Her parents seemed to notice this as well, because before she knew it they were looking at each other, and eventually nodding in agreement.

"Well, you may go." Mark finally said, facing Emma.

Emma whipped around, "_What_!?"

"You may go to this party," Mark repeated. "You are a teenager after all, We'd understand if you'd rather go to a party then out to eat with your parents." He chuckled. "I was young once too."

"But—But I don't want to go. And we've been looking foreword to this day for years. We should celebrate together.." Emma was utterly confused.

"Everyday from now on will feel like a celebration," Clarissa placed a hand on her face. "We don't need to eat dinner somewhere fancy to know that." She smiled gently, dropping her hand, and Emma stepped forward.

"What about the reservation?" She tried, clenching the side of her dress in her hand.

"Your dad and I will still go out to dinner," Clarissa glanced back at Mark, who nodded accordingly. "After all it's been so long since we've gone out together, It should be nice." She watched as her father wrapped his arm around her mother's shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

Emma didn't have any other excuses, besides the fact she didn't want to go. But, she'd already made Stiles feel stupid enough for even showing up to her house, so she knew it would be nothing but rude if she just denied his offer for the 3rd time. After all it was her fault for being a coward when speaking to him, that she wasn't able to inform him about the change of plans. All of the wrongs fell on her, and she sighed deeply, turning to face him.

Stiles was looking down at his shoes, his hands now shoved in his pockets and looking highly uncomfortable for having to stand on their porch longer then he'd meant to. Her shoulders relaxed and she wanted to whine, but instead she turned back to face her parents. "What time should I be home?" She asked blankly.

She could hear someone shuffling behind her, and she'd assumed Stiles had finally honed in on the conversation.

"What time is it now?" Clarissa asked, turning to Mark who lifted his watch.

"7:30." He pulled his sleeve back down.

"You have until 11," Clarissa decided. "Not a minute later." She was looking at Stiles, assuming he'd be her ride back.

"My curfew is 10." He blurted.

"Well—Then, 10." Mark corrected. "Sound good for everyone?"

"Not a minute later," Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. "Got it."

Her parents smiled, and then everyone focused their gaze on Emma. She was the least bit pleased, and quite frankly exhausted from how much energy she'd put into being embarrassed only a few moments ago. She shivered slightly, remembering that she was barefoot and hopping over the threshold, ducking under her parents arms to get inside. "I'm just gonna finish getting ready then." Her teeth clattered as she spoke, and she was jogging up the stairs before another word could be spoken.

She flew into her room, closing the door behind her and rushing to the mirror. Her first high school party. Lydia Martin's party nonetheless. And she was arriving with Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, who she hadn't spoken to but three times, all of which were awkward weren't even friends. Barely acquaintances. She wasn't even sure how she was preparing to get in his car with him. Since when did sophomore boys drive!? Her thoughts were racing, and she couldn't help but grip her vanity, now staring at her reflection with a confused frown. This is what she got for being nice. It bit her back in the ass. First she was nice to Stiles, and suddenly her entire high school experience with him has been nothing but painfully awkward. Then, she was nice to Allison and ended up being practically dragged to a party she wasn't even sure she wanted to go to. And her parents had agreed to it!

She figured it had something to do with her finally being cancer-free. Her parents just wanted her to live life to the fullest now that she could. She appreciated their thoughtfulness, but did they have to choose tonight to stop being the hovering parents they'd been for the past 3 years of her life? Running her fingers through her hair she turned her head from side to side, making sure she hadn't managed to rub off her makeup during the ordeal she'd just encountered. Her hair was still down in it's loose curls that she'd spent curling an hour ago when she'd been preparing for dinner. Her dress was on, and it seemed all she was missing were shoes. She rushed towards her closet, leaning down and picking up her brown boots and a pair of knee length grey socks. She pulled the socks on quickly, and shoved her feet into the boots, instantly feeling the warmth she'd been craving. Placing on a thumb ring, and grabbing a grey cardigan off of her desk chair, and she was out of her door, thumping down the steps.

Her parents were still standing in the doorway, laughing at something Stiles had said. He was looking much more comfortable then the boy she'd left only moments earlier and she'd wondered what had changed. It was a bit weird. Seeing him interact with her parents as though she and he had been friends for years. Man, was that far from the truth. Letting her fingers slide against the railing she came to a stop mid-way through the steps, to watch them. Stiles quickly caught sight of her, and his mouth propped open, his eyebrows raising. Emma's breath hitched in her throat with his eyes on her, and she fumbled with the ends of her sleeves, pulling them over her hands. "We should, probably go.." Stiles looked at her as though she had to heads. "What?"

"Nothing," His voice was soft, and a bit distracted. Enough to cause Emma's frown to deepen. "You just look nice, is all.."

"..." Emma had forgotten her parents were right behind her as a rosy hue took place on her cheeks. "Thanks, uhm. So do you?"

Stiles' face broke out into a goofy grin, and her eyes widened as she faced her parents for a final time. "See you guys later," A quick hug from both of her parents was her send off, and the next thing she knew she was sitting in Stiles' jeep.

It was blue, and surprisingly very clean. It was evident he took very well care of his car. Whether he'd just gotten it or not, she didn't know. It was definitely used, but still in perfectly good condition. Aside from the empty coke bottle in the drink holster his car was practically pristine. They were quiet most of the way to the party. Nothing but the faint sound of the radio playing, and Stiles' hands drumming on the wheel with each stop light they'd met. Emma kept her gaze out the window, her throat being too closed up with nerves for her to focus on anything else. She was uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable. The entire situation was just a big ball of uncomfortable-_ness_. She kept asking herself how on earth she'd managed to get herself in such a situation? How her parents had allowed her to get in a car with some random kid they'd never met? How she'd willingly left with him. It was all confusing and by the time they were turning onto Lydia Martin's street her head was aching from how hard she'd been over thinking it. She let out a shaky breath, tucking her hands beneath her legs, and looking up at all the houses that lined the streets.

"Are you nervous?" Stiles asked suddenly, and she got whiplash from how quickly she'd turned to him.

"What?" Emma had been so preoccupied with thinking she'd barely caught what he'd said.

"Are you nervous?" He repeated himself, and Emma looked around, confused. "You keep fidgeting, and you're kind of breathing like a fish out of water."

Emma placed a hand up to her throat, "I am?"

"Yeah.." He glanced at her briefly, trying not to take his eyes off the road. "You okay?"

Emma let her hand slip from her throat, and she settled back in her seat. "I just, wasn't expecting to come here tonight...Especially not with you, So, I'm trying to wrap my head around the fact that I'm about to walk into Lydia Martin's party...most likely under-dressed and knowing practically no one."

Stiles looked slightly offended, and he tightened his hands on the wheel. "Jeez, am I that bad of a chauffeur?"

"No!" Emma felt she just couldn't say anything without sounding like she hated the kid. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just, I wasn't expecting you to show up on my front porch, and offer me a ride. It was just all unexpected."

He gave an understanding nod. "I could see where that would be unexpected."

"Yeah, I mean we barely even know each other.." She offered, assuming he would agree once more. Instead, he sat silent, shrugging his shoulders and then looking at her.

"I know enough.." He spoke as though he knew something that she didn't, and she found herself trying to read his face as they pulled up on the side of the street behind a very familiar beat up car with rust growing on the side. Scott's mom still didn't take Stiles' dad up on that offer she presumed. Stiles put the car in park, clutching his keys in his hand as he looked out through the windshield at the people stumbling into the party late. "Look, I know this was probably the last place you wanted to be, and I'm the last person you wanted to be here with but, try and enjoy it. I mean, Lydia Martin is a lot of things, but a bad hostess is not one of 'em. Even though you don't like us, and this is all a bit awkward at the moment—you do know Scott and I sort of. And if not us, then Allison. So, you have people inside there who are happy you decided to come." His eyes drew back to her. "Also, I think you look perfectly dressed."

Emma found his words comforting, and she even found herself with a small smile upon her lips by the end of it. But, she eventually sighed. "Why are you still so nice to me? I keep dodging your efforts, yet you still keep trying.."

Stiles seemed to think over her question, his eyes flicking to the dashboard, and then back to her. "Well, because... a few years ago I was this scared little 11 year old, sitting in a hospital room feeling very alone. And then, this very _annoying_ and _persistent_ 11 year old girl," Emma laughed. "...forced me to break out of my sadness, and focus on something that made me happy—like _Reeses_." He closed his lips, eyeing her. "You were a friend to me that day, when I didn't even want one. You were consistently nice to me, when I kept dodging _your_ efforts...So I'm not gonna quit when you start dodging mine."

Silence engulfed them, and Emma looked down, feeling a weight settle on her shoulders. All this time she'd been avoiding him, and now she saw there was nothing she needed to avoid about Stiles Stilinski. The tables had turned, and he wasn't brushing her off. He was putting in an effort just to make her feel more comfortable with the idea of them being friends, and yet she kept shooting him down. Now she saw what she needed to do. It was a new day. She was a new Emma. She wasn't sick anymore. No reason to hate the day she'd found out she had leukemia anymore, because now she'd beaten in. She should look on that day with a proud feeling in her chest. Not one of shame. If Stiles could view the positive, and appreciate the abrasive actions she'd chosen to take that day when she forced him to eat Reeses, then so should she. She'd done a good thing, and she was through feeling ashamed for it, when the person she'd done it to, saw it as nothing more then something to thank her for. With these thoughts in mind, she lifted her hand to him.

"Hi," she smiled. "I'm Emma Asher, what's your name?"

Stiles looked from her hand to her, then back to her hand and snorted a laugh. "Stiles Stilinski," He clasped his hand around her own, shaking it. "Pleasure.—Wait, seriously?" He jolted his head.

"What?" Emma pulled her hand back, confused.

"All this time you've been ignoring me, and all it takes is a few honest words and you're okay with being friends?" His mouth was open wide, fighting a smile.

"I never said we were friends," She raised her eyebrows. "But we are starting over. I realized how ridiculous I've been, and so I'm allowing this to be a probationary period. I mean, neither of us are those 11 year old kids anymore. We don't even know if we'll be able to get along as friends."

Stiles smirked. "Well, I guess only time will tell then huh?"

Emma was about to answer when a loud engine roared past her car door causing her to jerk away from it, and Stiles to yelp like a girl. It turned out to be Jackson Whittemore, pulling up a few cars ahead of them. He popped open his door, music from the inside blaring, and quickly slammed his door shut. Lydia, as if planned, stomped out of her party, a drink in hand. "Jackson, You're here!" She squealed, waving her arms. Jackson looked annoyed, but still shoved his keys in his back pockets and proceeded to climb to steps to reach her. She flung her arms around him, proceeding to press her lips to him hungrily. Emma sighed, disgusted. Stiles had a horrified look on his face, that slowly turned into hurt and disappointment.

"I think that's our cue to go inside..." Stiles fumbled for his door handle blindly, and eventually clicked the door open, falling out. Emma gasped as he fell to the ground, and pulled her self over the middle compartment to look on his side. He was already pushing himself off the ground and dusting himself off.

"Are you okay?" Emma tried to hide her amount of concern.

"I'm fine," he grumbled. "Let's just," He looked over the hood of his car, getting one last look of Lydia and Jackson's make out session. "..Let's just get inside." He slammed his car door, and Emma snapped backwards, her hair flying around her as she reacted to the sudden anger she felt fuming off of him. Slowly, she opened her door, jumping onto the ground, and wrapping her arms around herself as she hurried to catch up with him.

She didn't ask him about why he had reacted the way he did. It was pretty clear, for anyone with a brain. Stiles Stilinski had a thing for Lydia Martin. Lydia Martin clearly was not reciprocating. Although, it would be hard to when she had her tongue halfway down Jackson's throat. They were still making out in the front of the house when both she and Stiles managed to walk around them, and into the house.

When the walked into the party Emma was instantly met with a cloud of smoke, causing her to cough and cover her nostrils and mouth with a hand. Stiles waved his hand around as if it would clear the air. All around were people mingling, dancing, drinking, and having drunken heart to hearts. The music was loud enough to make her ears bleed, and she wasn't surprised to see so many people lying around, looking as though they were ready to pass out. Blunts and Cigarettes hanging from their limp fingertips. Emma felt completely out of place, and she subconsciously stepped closer to Stiles. He was taller then her, practically like a shield, and she was ashamed to say she took advantage of that. She practically cowered behind him as he stalked through the crowd.

People eyed her with glossy eyes. Boys bit their lips, and the girls sneered. She squeezed her eyes shut, reaching foreword and clenching onto Stiles blazer. He turned his head to her. "Sorry," She let go the moment his eyes landed on her. "Instinct." He said nothing, but pulled her to stand in front of him. He then placed a hand on the small of her back, barely touching her, and led the way to the kitchen. There was a group of people surrounding the island, which they were using for a beer pong table. Behind them were two open doors, leading out to the backyard and pool area. There seemed to be less people outside, so it was easy for her to see Scott and Allison in the middle of the dance floor, moving as one to the beat that was playing. A small smile crept onto her face as she watched them, not even aware that Stiles was speaking to her again until there was red solo cup in front of her eyes.

Her eyes crossed, focusing on the red plastic, before she pushed his hand out of her face, a glare on her brow. "Are you crazy!? I thought you said you weren't going to drink?"

"Wh—?" He tried his best not to let the contents in the cup spill, and then he lifted his voice over the music. "It's coke!" He pointed to the drinks counter where there was a half empty liter of coca-cola. Emma cringed, taking the cup gently from him.

"I'm sorry!" She shouted over the music.

"It's no problem!" Stiles was laughing, so she assumed she hadn't made such a fool out of herself. She lifted the cup to her nose, sniffing it. "Oh my god, You did not just do that," He scoffed playfully. "What kind of guy do you think I am?"

"Did you know most cases of the date-rape-drug are used by people you know?" She pointed to the drink in her hands.

"Did you know that even if that was the case, WHICH IT'S NOT, you wouldn't be able to_ smell_ it." He leaned against the counter, in slight disbelief.

"Did you know that I have wolf senses and can smell anything," She placed a hand on her hip, prepared to earn another laugh for her joke. Stiles' smile instead faltered, and his face flushed.

"What did you say?" He asked nervously.

"..You get it... Cause wolves have really good sense of smell?" She frowned, surprised he hadn't caught her joke. He looked as if something had set off his nerves.

"Yeah but how do you know that wolves can smell really well?" His lips shook as he began to fumble over his words as he'd done the entire night.

"—Because I learned about animals in the first grade like every other kid..?" She didn't understand why he was suddenly acting so off. "Are you sure _your_ drink wasn't spiked?"

He stared at her blankly for a few extra moments, and then he barked out a nervous laugh. "Right._ Funny_. That was a—a funny joke, I'm just gonna go get some more to drink." Emma was mid-way through explaining to him that he had yet to touch the drink he already had, but he was already walking back to the drinks counter by the time she'd opened her mouth. She closed her lips, placing her hands around her cup and lifting it to her lips finally. She took a sip, and her eyes watered at the carbonation from the coke. With Stiles no longer there to distract her, she tried to check back in on Scott and Allison.

When her eyes landed on the pair, she saw Scott wincing, his eyes clenched shut and his head shaking as though he were in pain. Allison was just beginning to notice, pulling back from him slightly and tucking her hair behind her ear as she ducked her head under his concerned. Emma could see Emma's lips moving, asking if he was okay, calling his name, but Scott seemed completely incoherent. He suddenly let his arms slip from around her, backing away from her. His body was swaying and he placed the ball of his hand on his forehead. Allison stepped foreword, but Scott put up a hand to stop her, turning and stumbling through the crowd to get back in the house. She followed him with her eyes, watching as he dizzily pushed past people. He was moving so quickly it was like he was a blur. He bumped into Stiles, who turned just a feet away from Emma.

"Yo, Scott, you good?" Stiles reached out his arms to stabilize Scott, but he brushed him off, continuing to push his way through the party.

Stiles looked after his friend, scratching the back of his head. "Are you just gonna let him go?" Emma spoke up, making him look down to her. "He's clearly been drinking, you can't just let him go home."

"I don't think he's been drinking..." Stiles said aloud, but she had a feeling he hadn't meant to.

"Then what do you call him stumbling every time he moves?" Emma questioned, and Stiles looked at her as though he wanted to say something. His lips even moved, the words resting on his tongue. But he eventually decided against it, settling for staring at her and leaving her without an answer.

Allison ran up to the both of them, her coat swung over her forearm. "Did you guys see where Scott went? I think he was feeling a bit sick.."

"No." Stiles spit out, just as Emma answered "Yes."

The pair snapped their heads to each other.

"..Which one is it?" Allison looked from Stiles to Emma.

"No." Stiles once more put out, and Emma again said, "Yes."

Stiles sucked in a breath through his teeth, looking at Emma as if she was failing on a plan she wasn't aware she'd been apart of. "_Really_?"

"What?" She was lost. Why wouldn't Stiles want Allison to know where Scott had just gone? Did he want his clearly intoxicated friend to get behind the wheel of his car? "C'mon Allison, I think he went out to his car.." Emma grabbed Allison by her wrist, pulling her gently after her. She gave Stiles a look of disappointment, and then continued on their journey. She could hear Stiles groan behind them, and soon he was taking the lead, leading them through the mass of people.

"You don't think he's leaving do you?" Allison asked over the music.

"I'm sure he's fine." Stiles said over his shoulder, his voice sounding hesitant.

"No, he wouldn't do that.." Emma was finishing just as they stepped outside to see Scott pulling out of his spot in front of Stiles' jeep. "Or.. he _would_."

"Scott!" Allison called after him, running past Stiles and Emma down the front steps. "Scott, what—" And then Scott's engine veered, and he was speeding away from Lydia Martin's house, his lights trailing him down the road. Allison came to an abrupt stop, completely shocked that he'd just left her.

Emma looked up at Stiles, "What the hell is wrong with him?" To which he responded with a baffled noise, and a hand running over his face.

"Allison," A voice said, and both Emma and Stiles focused back on the brunette. Only, she was no longer alone but standing with a young man. He looked to be in his early 20s. With bright green eyes masked under olive skin and black hair. He had a bit of a shadow lining his jaw, and standing at 6'1, he stood over Allison like the Eiffle Tower. He was in a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, black jeans, and black shoes. Emma had to admit if he wasn't out her age range, she wouldn't feel weird about finding him rather attractive. That, and if he wasn't seeming like a complete creep for showing up randomly at a high school party, and speaking to a teenage girl who looked a bit thrown off to have him speaking to her. Allison slouched away from him. "I'm a friend of Scott's," Allison seemed to relax a bit at his admission, and she stood up straighter. "My names Derek." _Why did that sound so familiar?_

The name _Derek Hale_ popped into Emma's head and she jumped at the memory of who he was. Everyone had heard about the Hale fire years ago. Killing an entire family except for 3 of the Hale children who had been at school around the time it'd happened. Derek, Laura, and Cora, if she remembered correctly. Her dad had worked on that case when deciding where the children would be placed now that they were orphans. She remembered Derek. "No, no, no.." Stiles was muttering as Allison began to be led to Derek's car. "No—_Allison_!" Allison looked back, and Derek shot Stiles an evil glare. A glare that caused Stiles to fall back, blowing air out of his lips at a loss for words. Allison furrowed her brow, and then lowered herself into the car. Derek closed the door after her, not taking his eyes off of Stiles.

He paused, looking at Emma, and then he looked away, walking around the car, and getting inside. It wasn't until the car left the sidewalk that Stiles darted down the steps. Emma almost fell over due to his sudden movement, and she grabbed onto the cement railing as she watched him. "Wait, where are you going!?" He was flying across the street, falling into his car door. "_Stiles_!" Emma hurried down the steps, an anxious feeling rising in her chest. "_Where are you going_!?"

"I have to go find Scott," He breathed. "I'll be right back!" He yanked opened his door.

"You can't just leave me here!" She motioned back towards the party.

"Trust me, It's probably better if you stay here," He shoved his keys in the ignition, "I'll come back the moment after I find him!"

"Are you kidding me!?" She screeched, and she could feel the people outside looking at her. He rolled his windows down, leaning over to speak to her.

"Listen, just stay right there okay!? Don't move. I'll be here!" The with a look of apology flashing across his eyes, he faced the front of his car.

"Stiles, I am not—" His tires screamed against the pavement, before sliding across the road and jerking straight as he left the area. Emma's mouth dropped open, as shock dawned on her. She was in utter disbelief. He had really just left her stranded at a party. Without even the thought to make sure she'd had a ride home like Scott had done for Allison. "This is unbelievable." She whispered to herself.

This is what she got for going to the party. She knew she shouldn't of gone. She should have just gone out to eat with her family. Celebrated her being cured of leukemia. Celebrating her new shot at life, which she was currently wasting. But, Stiles said he would be back. He looked her in the eyes and said he would come back for her. So he would. With that, she crossed her arms, rocking back and forth on her feet as her teeth began to chatter from the cool night air. He was going to come. He wasn't going to leave her. Not after they'd agreed they were taking a fresh start. Not after she'd finally felt like she was actually enjoying herself with him. No, he would come back.

She didn't see Stiles for the rest of the night.

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><p><strong>AN: What? Another chapter so quickly? I know I'm ridiculous. But you have no idea how quickly this story is developing in my head I just feel the need to write it and bring it to you before it escapes my memory. But, that being said, I'm going to hold off another chapter until I'm done with SATs! Hopefully you guys will give me more feedback because I absolutely love hearing what you have to say! Thank you to those who have been reviewing. Ive most definitely taken what you said into my writing and I hope you enjoy this chapter! We finally got to see some real interaction with Emma and the storyline of Season 1. I have so much in store for this story and I hope you all stick around to see it. :) **


	6. Apologies and Flannels

**Open Eyes**

Apologies and Flannels

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><p><em>I don't wanna think about it now,<br>I know I wont get out if I fall in,  
>So I don't wanna think about it now,<br>It's dark in my imagination  
><em>

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><p>Emma stabbed her fork in her eggs shoving the forkful in her mouth aggressively. It had been 2 days since the party, and she still found herself angry at the boy who left her stranded. Stiles, being the gentleman that he was, did not return from his spontaneous decision to run off after his best friend. No. He left that job for her parents who, were not too happy to see their recently cancer-free daughter, standing outside in the cold waiting for them to arrive. Even with all of her anger, she'd managed to stop her dad from complaining to Stiles' father about how more was expected from a "<em>Sheriff's son<em>". But that didn't mean she was any less furious with him. As shown through her angry eating habits that had begun just after the events last Friday.

The entire weekend Stiles had managed to call her house phone over and over, attempting to apologize, beg for the chance to explain himself, and anything else one could think of. But all she'd allowed him to receive were voice mails and the occasional scolding from her mother who was more disappointed with him then her dad seemed to be. His excuse for that was that he was a guy, and therefore knew never to expect much from his fellow men. That still didn't stop his offers to make the kid fear him more then he probably did.

It was silly really. It wasn't like he was a guy who had abandoned her on a date. But still, any decent person wouldn't just leave a girl stranded in a place where she knew nobody and had expressed how uncomfortable she was about being in the environment. How inconsiderate could you get? This is why a probationary period to becoming friends was ultimately necessary. To think she'd seriously considered being friends with the guy only after a bit of sugarcoated words.

Another forkful shoved in her mouth, and she felt her cheeks puff up like a chipmunks. "If you don't slow down there, you'll choke.." Her father took a gulp of his orange juice, his free hand resting on the table. Her mother walked over with bacon.

"I'm not gonna choke," Emma rolled her eyes, mouth still full. "I've seen you become a human vacuum cleaner. No judgement should be coming from _your_ side." Her mom smiled at this.

"Alright you two, no need for bickering over who eats faster around here," Clarissa took a seat at the table, plucking a piece of bacon for herself. "After all we know it's me." A playful glare was sent from both Emma and Mark. "Good effort?"

Emma's family had been through so much over the past years, and she was happy that they'd managed to survive the tough periods, and learn to find a sense of humor in life. She wasn't sure they'd be the same family they were today now that she was in remission if it wasn't for that fact. She had to thank her mother for that. Her mother who, had pushed out all the bitterness towards her father away, and had chosen to move on with their lives. She'd promised Emma that she'd never have to worry about her parents no longer being together. So, after much counseling, and therapists, her family had been brought back to their strong foundation. Or at least close enough anyway. Now, all they did was joke with each other. Give each other a reason to smile. It was as though everyday was the calm after a year long storm.

"Sure, mom." Emma laughed, finally swallowing her food and clicking her phone to check the time. "I don't want to go to school.." She groaned.

"Is it that_ Stiles_ kid?" Mark had no problem revealing his distaste for the Sheriff's son.

"No, dad. I could care less about him," Emma gripped her fork as she spoke, knowing it was a lie. "Mondays are just the worst."

"Do you want to take a day off?" Clarissa placed a hand on Emma's arm, and Emma hesitated to answer. "You've had a lot of excitement to deal with this weekend. Maybe you should rest."

"..No. No I'm fine. I'm just being a typical high school kid. Yano, never wanting to go." She tried to shrug it off the best she could, trying to deny her own true emotions about why she didn't want to go to school. Hearing about the party that she'd basically missed out on, listening to stiles' failed attempts at apologies as he trailed her down the hall, Allison's endless questions. It was all a lot to deal with, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Okay. Well, you should hurry up and finish your breakfast. We will leave as soon as your done." Clarissa began to break in her eggs.

Half an hour later, and Emma found herself walking up the schools steps, with determination to continue the same pattern she'd followed her entire high school year up until the previous last few days; ignore Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall.

It didn't help that the pair were waiting at their lockers by the time she walked into the building, and practically tripped over themselves trying to reach her. Her heart pounded in her chest and she froze in her spot before an hand wrapped around her forearm and yanked her in another direction. Emma snapped her head up to see Allison Argent, looking quite displeased herself.

"Hey!" Emma quipped. "Thanks for that."

"No problem," Allison said, releasing her arm and wrapping her hands around her books. "I felt I would spare you the same treatment I got."

"Let me guess, they tried to attack you with apologies?" Emma lifted her bag further up on her shoulder, shaking her head.

"Yeah...Well, _no_. I figured Scott would just try and get you to talk to me for him as well..Wait, why would both of them need to apologize..." Allison asked, quizzically. Emma just gave her a knowing look, and Allison's mouth dropped. "No! Stiles ditched you early too?"

Emma tucked her lips in nodding. "Oh yeah, in the freezing cold. With no back up ride, which you can at least say Scott had the courtesy to do.." She shook her head. "I had to get picked up from my first high school party, by _my parents_ who spent the entire ride home bashing him," Allison winced. "Yeah, it wasn't fun. I'm guessing they were waiting for you?"

"Oh you have no idea," Allison clenched her jaw and then sighed. "I didn't even get an apology from Scott, it was from _Stiles_. Although, I'm pretty sure Scott was the one poking his head around the corner trying to catch a listen."

"Wow, what a coward..." Emma thought aloud, frowning slightly. She'd pegged McCall to at least have a bit more dignity to apologize himself, instead of sending Stiles to do his dirty work. "Well, on the bright side, now we can focus on our Chemistry test, without worrying about any distractions." Emma knew well enough that it wasn't true. She knew if she couldn't stop thinking of Stiles, Allison probably wouldn't be able to stop thinking about Scott, but they had to try.

"Yeah, you're totally right. Besides, I guess in a way I dodged a bullet. Yano, caught the problem with Scott early, and now I don't have to endure it. It's for the better." Allison spoke as though she felt the complete opposite inside, but Emma wasn't cruel enough to call her out on it. Instead, she pressed a smile, releasing a deep breath.

"Right," She nodded towards their classroom. "C'mon. If we get in early, maybe we can study for a bit." Allison agreed silently, following Emma into the filled classroom with a far off look in her eyes. Twisting her lips, Emma sat down beside her, opening her books and trying her best to force herself to focus.

It wasn't easy. Hell, it hadn't been easy the first time she'd tried to ignore Stiles Stilinski's existence. But it was even more unbearable now that they'd hung out. Now that they'd shared a car ride, and thoughts, and stupid jokes, more so on her part. Unfortunately getting to know Stiles Stilinski a bit more had done nothing but make it harder for her to push him out of her life. She tried to tell herself it was simple. They'd only hung out once, and he'd left her out in the cold with no backup ride. It should be simple. But it wasn't, and she hated the kid for it. Fact of the matter was, it wasn't just her anger that had gotten the best of her, it was her confusion as to why he'd seemed so careless towards the well being of his best friend, when he decided to get into a car clearly intoxicated. Also, why was he so panicky about Derek Hale? And why had Derek Hale given him the look he had? There were so many questions going through her mind, and she knew talking to Scott and Stiles was the only way she'd most likely ever get answers. But she refused to brush off their actions just for a bit of information. What did she care anyways? They weren't friends. It wasn't her problem.

"Emma," Allison called to her, and Emma's head bounced up, looking at her expectantly. Allison simply frowned, concern in her brow. "You okay?" Allison's eyes fell to Emma's paper, and Emma looked down to see that she'd scribbled all over the page in her notebook, completely ignoring the warm-up on the board.

"Oh yeah...I just, am a doodler..." Emma quickly closed her notebook, blocking the page. "Guess I just got zoned out."

"I'm not one to talk considering my drawing skills," Allison began. "But your doodling is pretty bad." This caused both Allison and Emma to laugh, before Emma tossed her eraser at her.

"Alright class, settle down. Remove all things from your desk except a pencil. The test is about to begin." Their teacher, Mr. Harris, held the test papers close to his chest as he overlooked the class.

Emma quickly pushed all of her things off the desk, but not before her phone buzzed. She frowned, confused as to who would be texting her during school, and raised it to her face.

**(1) Text Message: Unknown**

**Can we please talk?**

Looking around, Emma tucked the phone under her desk and typed a short message back.

**Text Message:**

**Who is this?**

Mr. Harris began passing out the tests, and Emma bounced her knee up and down, hoping the person would text back so she would at least know before the teacher got to her desk and she had to take the test from hell.

**(1) Test Message: Unknown**

**Stiles.**

The message was all she needed to roll her eyes and sigh. She turned to Allison, who looked up from writing her name on instinct. Emma flashed the phone at her, and Allison's eyes went back and forth as she read, before she looked up and gave Emma the same eye roll as she'd previously done. Emma widened her eyes as if to agree with her, before a shadow hovered over her and she froze where she sat. Allison quickly snapped back to face the front in her seat.

"Ms. Asher, I hope that is not a cellphone I see as I am passing out the tests.." Mr. Harris' voice asked slickly as he stood behind her, waiting for her to turn and face him.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, briefly wishing him away, before turning slowly and looking up at him. "...It was just from my parents—" She began to lie, when Harris simply flicked out his hand, awaiting for her to hand it to him. "Okay." She gave up, placing the cellular device in his hands, and offering a guilty smile.

"Your lucky I don't dispose of it. _Lunch Detention_." He glowered at her, slipping the phone into his blazer pocket, and slapping a test onto her desk. Apart of her was thankful for the punishment. That way, she had a valid excuse as to why she didn't respond to Stiles and his begging. Not that she didn't have a valid reason before, but this one came without less temptation. Also, it was better that he'd given her lunch detention as opposed to after school, considering that heightened the chances of her running into Scott and Stiles on their way out of their practice, and she wasn't prepared yet to go through that awkward interaction. Still, detention sucked, and she was pretty sure Harris had a 'no eating' rule, so hunger pains were going to be something she'd have to endure for the rest of the day.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she slouched down in her seat, resting a hand just over her face to try and lessen the feeling of people staring at her once Harris walked away. She snuck a glance at Allison who gave her a sympathetic look, before focusing back on her test. Emma finally, looked at her own, and her head immediately began to ache at the amount of questions she could already see herself getting wrong. She heaved out a painful breath. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>The final bell rang, and Emma lazily shuffled through the throng of people, sliding a hand down her face and yawning tiredly. The day had dragged on just as she'd assumed it would. With each period it had just gotten worse. After first period, she and Allison had gotten separated, and she was forced to have a run in with Scott all of her own. In which she was forced to be passive aggressive in her own way. It hadn't worked well. Scott had sat behind her the entire class period whispering question after question. All revolving about how angry Allison was, and how much of a shot he had at regaining her forgiveness. Eventually Emma had whipped around and told him to "ask her yourself!" Which led to Scott only pouting and then falling into another string of questions. Third and fourth period was Lydia Martin land, where she was forced to listen to her complain about Jackson to 2 girls who were pretending to care for social points. Lunch detention came around, and sure enough Harris had the no-eating rule fully in tact. So, for an hour, she was forced to watch him deviously grade papers and eat Oil soaked leaves with a fork as her stomach grumbled.<p>

By 5th period, Emma was starving. It didn't help that Stiles was in her class, and in attempt to yolk his apology had not so subtly slid a pop tart onto her desk. It also didn't help that said pop tart was cinnamon flavor, which just so happened to be Emma's favorite. Either way, she'd declined, pushing it away with her hand, and dropping her head on her arms. He'd huffed in defeat and she glared at him through her shut eyes. She wasn't so easily swayed to forgiveness with food, even if her stomach sounded like a garbage disposal. In fact, it angered her even more at the fact that him offering her a pop tart, meant he was more then aware that he'd done something wrong, and had still chosen not to properly apologize. It was how one could expect Stiles Stilinski to apologize, but still, not good enough.

Thankfully, last period of the day brought Allison back on her schedule, and they took the time to exchange stories of how horrible both of their days had been. Allison had taken the cake with eating lunch with Lydia and her group of friends, which they both agreed was worse then detention with Harris. Still it didn't fill the emptiness in her stomach and the disappointment in her head that had been eating away at her all day. Needless to say when she reached her locker, she hardly had the energy to open it. She instead, stared at it, willing it to open on it's own.

"Hey, so," Allison walked up to her, trying to shove her binder into her bag sloppily. "My dad's on his way to pick me up, I can give you a ride if you want, so your mom doesn't have to.."

Emma turned to face her, crossing her arms and resting against her locker. "No, it's fine," Allison gave her a look. "Really, it's fine. My mom always loves that she's the one who picks me up from school. It's like she can't finish her day properly unless she's the first person to hear about my day."

Allison smiled at the explanation, hoisting her bag up on her shoulder. "I get that. My mom can be the same way. Perks of being a stay at home parent I guess..They never know when to chill out."

"My mom is no longer a stay at home mom, but she might as well be. She's still one in spirit." Emma laughed lightly and Allison soon joined her. Both girls were trying to find something to smile about after their long days.

"Well, you're going to be at lunch tomorrow at least right? Harris didn't extended your punishment?" It was most definitely something that Harris would do, so Emma sought it as a valid question on Allison's part.

"No, thank god. I'll actually get to eat my food tomorrow instead of starving all day." Emma pushed herself off her locker finally, propping it open and pulling out her books to place into her bag.

"You could always ask _Stilinski_ for a pop tart.." Allison joked, and Emma squinted her eyes at her.

"Oh, yeah, totally. And then, he'll ask me if he can take me to a poptart party, and then he'll ditch me halfway through to do god knows what," She raised her eyebrows, and dropped her mouth open in mocking shock. "_Great_ idea, right?" Allison laughed shaking her head.

The hallway was almost empty now. Students practically bolted out the school doors the second the final bell had rung. So it made it easier for Allison and Emma to hear the clicking of heels come down the hall as her photo teacher approached, a bright smile upon her lips. Mrs. Elstein was in her mid-30's, and found pleasure in absentmindedly ruining kids lives with a glistening smile that they couldn't deny. It was her super power. Everyone knew about it, and everyone hated it. Which is why the moment Emma saw her, she had to fight the groan that was rising up her throat.

"_Emma Asher_," Mrs. Elstein came to a stop infront of the two girls, placing her hands on her hips excitedly. "Those prints you gave me earlier from the lacrosse practice were _wonderful_."

"..Thanks, Mrs. E. I'm glad you liked them." Emma nodded, doing her best to smile back as Allison awkwardly ducked her head to look at her phone.

"I did, I did," Mrs. Elstein nodded, before lifting a finger. "Although there's one problem. You only took 33 prints," She informed, and Emma already saw where the conversation was going. "We're going to need much more."

"_More_?" Emma let her bag slowly slip from her shoulder as she craned her head forward. "Mrs. E—"

"Now, I know. That's a bit _greedy_ of us. But we need many to choose from if it's going to be in the year book and next year's orientation catalog," The woman seemed genuinely sorry to ask more of her student, but it didn't make the situation any less worse. "It shouldn't take that long. We need about 100 even. You should be able to get that from tonight's practice and.." The rest of Mrs. Elstein's speech droned out as Emma slowly turned to look at Allison who was looking at her wide eyed. So much for avoiding Scott and Stiles. Fate really enjoyed kicking her ass. "..So, if you could just do this one last thing, I assure you, I won't leave it out come time for your college recommendations."

"I—" Emma was very well prepared to deny the woman's request. But, as previously stated, Mrs. Elstein was very good at ruining people's lives with a smile, convincing them with her pearly whites to do even the most unwanted deeds. So, Emma closed her eyes, sighing. "—_Okay_. I'll get it done today." Emma could practically feel Allison tense up beside her.

"Oh, you truly are a team player Ms. Asher!" Mrs. Elstein beamed, clasping her hands together. "Now, do you need to borrow one of the school cameras or—"

"Nope. I've got my own; Should be fine." Emma scratched the back of her neck to give her hands something to do.

"Fantastic! I'll be looking forward to your prints," The woman really had no clue just how dreadful the task she'd just assigned was. "Have a great afternoon girls!" And then she was off, happily clicking away back down the hall. Emma watched her go, wishing she could just take back her agreement.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Allison asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. Emma turned back around, shaking her head lightly.

"No, it's fine. I'll just. Take them quick and tell my mom to make sure she's already outside when I need her to be." Emma couldn't hide her annoyance. Not towards Allison, but towards the plans she now had that involved her being in the reach of both Scott and Stiles to hear them beg for more forgiveness.

"Are you sure? I don't mind," Allison asked, just as her phone began to ring in her hands. Her eyes looked down, and she looked back up. "It's my dad.."

"_Go_. I'll be fine. It's not like they're two monsters ready to eat me," Emma pressed a smile. "They're just two idiots who don't know how to apologize. There's nothing to fear except a bit of awkwardness." She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince herself of that, or Allison.

"Okay," Allison breathed, still seeming unsure. "Well, tell me if anything happens!" She began walking backwards.

"Will do," Emma closed her locker. "See ya.."

"Bye!" Allison smiled one last time, before turning completely and hurrying towards the school doors. Emma whined quietly, knocking her head against the locker and then bending down to rip out her camera from her bag.

As she began to stalk her way down the hallway towards the sports wing, thoughts raced through her head as she contemplated how much of an awkward fest she was really about to walk into. She had been avoiding any interaction with Scott and Stiles all day, as though they had the plague. But now that it was the end of the day, she realized how exhausting avoiding people who you could never truly get rid of was. All day she'd gone to extremes to make sure they didn't cross paths, or share a look, and now there she was. Hungry, annoyed, beyond tired, and on her way to do the same thing she'd been trying not to do all day, see Scott and Stiles.

It was ridiculous, and she felt stupid for the way she'd handled the situation. Apologies went both ways. Sure, she deserved one, but if she wanted one so badly, she should have stood up and demanded one. A proper one at that. Not some simple gesture like a pop tart when her stomach was informing the entire class that it hadn't been fed. Then again, that argument was invalid, seeing as Stiles had tried to apologize. Multiple times over the weekend. Through the phone, through emails, and even at the beginning of school. The boy had tried, even if she hadn't wanted to admit it. But being sucked into a bitter phase was easy when you had someone else to do it with. Not that she blamed Allison at all, she very well could have handled it differently no matter what Allison had chosen to do. It had been her choice. And now she was being put in an awkward situation because she couldn't just nip it in the bud at the start of the day.

She hated drama. It was another reason she missed the days where she was invisible to half the student body. More specifically, the two boys who she was watching walk onto the lacrosse field as she walked up the bleachers steps. The breeze outside was a bit chillier then it had earlier been, and Emma shivered as the coolness of the metal seeped through her clothes. Scott and Stiles walked onto the field, or—more like, Stiles dragged a slumped over Scott onto the field. Scott's helmet was off, and he seemed to be upset about something, that Stiles was rolling his eyes about. Stopping mid-way on the field, Stiles turned to him, and patted him on the side of the face. From what she could hear, he kept repeating "Focus on lacrosse alright? Lacrosse" Which only caused Emma to be confused as to what happened. The kid was clearly out of it for some reason. First the party, and now this? What the hell was wrong with Scott McCall.

"Here we go! One on one from up top!" Coach blew his whistle, and pointed at Jackson. "Jackson! Take a long stick today." Emma had no idea what that meant, but nevertheless she took a snap just as Jackson lifted the stick in the air. "Atta boy!" Coach commented, patting him on the shoulder and then blowing his whistle once more.

It was like the hunger games with lacrosse sticks. All boys went against each other, trying to break the others guard and get the ball. The methods of sports practice always confused Emma slightly, and she found herself digging through her bag instead for any thing that would fill the empty void in her stomach as coach talked aimlessly to his players. "That's how you do it Jackson! That is how you do it. Greenberg! Take a lap!—Faster _Greenberg_!" At some point, if she ever got the chance, she would have to ask one of the players what coaches' deal was with Greenberg. It seemed no matter what the kid did, he simply couldn't do it right. Emma found a stick of gum in her front pocket, and hungrily popped it into her mouth. It wasn't food, and if anything gum was a tease to her grumbling insides, but it would just have to do for now.

She saw that Scott was at the front of the line now, and she clumsily lifted her camera to her eyes. Be what it may, Scott still had some of the best moves on the field. She had to get a shot of his backflips, or twists—really anything. However, Scott didn't seem to notice he was at the front of the line himself, as he stared with his stick limp at his side.

"Let's go—McCall? What are you waiting for?" Coach stepped closer to Scott, who shook his head in his helmet and began rolling his shoulders, snapping back into the game. Emma took the time to focus her camera. "Let's go." Scott ran in place for a moment, before rushing towards Jackson. Emma clenched her teeth in anticipation, ready to take the shot of Scott soaring over Jackson. But instead, he got smacked to the ground, and Emma slammed her camera down with wide eyes. Stiles jumped back dramatically, and Scott laid still on the ground. Coach found it funny. "Hey, McCall. McCall.."

She couldn't hear what, but Jackson said something to Scott that caused him to jump up from where he lay, and begin to step towards him. Emma flinched, sensing a fight, but coach was quick to cut Scott off, as Jackson walked smugly towards the goal. "..My grandmother can run faster then that," Coach mocked, stepping in front of Scott as he lowered his head. "And she's dead." The coach lowered himself under Scott's ducked head, as he turned slightly away from him. "Do you think you can move faster then the...lifeless corpse of my _dead grandmother_?" Emma looked down at her hands. That was embarrassing, and wrong on so many levels. Was he allowed to talk to his players that way? Hearing him speak again, she twisted her lips, peaking back up at the scene in front of her. "...I can't hear you.."

"Yes coach." Scott grumbled, and Emma noticed he had yet to face the coach head on. It was probably hard to with your entire team snickering behind you. Emma sucked in a deep breath, catching sight of Stiles looking at her. He didn't look happy or surprised to see her. He looked at her as though she were just another person looking at his best friend get his ear talked off in front of his team. Blinking, Stiles looked away from her, and back towards Scott. For some reason, Emma was a bit upset he hadn't reacted the way he usually did. Had he finally given up?

"Then do it. _Again_." Coach responded in the same tone as Scott, and Emma swallowed the lump in her throat that Stiles had just caused her to form. "McCall's gonna do it again. McCall's gonna do it again!" He sing-songed happily, and Emma gripped her camera absentmindedly. Coach was definitely out of line. She didn't have to be a professional to see that.

Scott seemed just as angered by it, because before she even had time to adjust her camera, he'd rammed into Jackson, causing the boy to flip in the air and land on his shoulder. Emma flew a hand to her mouth, just as the boy let out a yelp of pain and wrapped a glove around his area of impact. "Oh,_ shit_.." Emma whispered, lowering her fingers.

Scott dropped to his knees, gripping his head, and Emma's eyes followed as Stiles flew to his side, placing his hands on the boys shoulders. "Scott," He called worriedly, as though Scott was the one with the injured shoulder. Meanwhile, the entire rest of the team, including coach were surrounded around the whimpering Jackson. Something she'd thought she'd never see. Most of the people who had come to watch the practice were walking towards the commotion, looks of shock on their faces. But Emma kept her eyes locked on the two boys who had previously left she and her friend stranded. Scott was still on the ground, shaking his head and saying things to Stiles that she'd have to have super hearing to hear. Stiles, wasn't so subtle, spitting out "What—Right here? _Now_!?" He must have realized how loud he was, because he glanced around to make sure nobody had heard him. Sure enough, he and Emma locked eyes again, and this time she was glad he did.

She stood expectantly. Maybe he would ask for her help. Or maybe he would see that she was interested in what was going on and call her over. But instead he looked at her as though he feared her awareness of he and Scott's situation, and quickly turned back around to the boy. He said something to him, before digging his arms underneath Scott's and hoisting the boy off the ground with a light grunt. Then, he helped lead Scott off the field and back towards the locker rooms.

This was exactly what Scott had been like at the party. It was like a sickness would wash over him. Hit him out of nowhere. Headaches, the lightheartedness after a lot of movement, dizziness—No. She was being ridiculous. He was probably just coming down with the few but, wouldn't it have gone away by now? At least not have been as bad? Unless he hadn't gotten checked out. Then, well, he was screwed and would probably be missing a lot of school very soon. Emma slapped a hand to her face, laughing at herself. She was officially losing her mind. Here she was trying to play doctor with Scott McCall when he probably had just concussed himself from hitting Jackson's shoulder as hard as he did. Helmet or not that was quite the hit. Figuring practice was over, Emma shoved her camera back in her bag. Looks like she was going to the game Friday. If there even was a game Friday. How was Beacon Hills meant to play without it's Captain?

Standing, she turned to step off the bleachers, when she saw Derek Hale standing on the other side of the field. His hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, and a glare set on his face as he watched Scott and Stiles enter the locker rooms and slam the door behind them. Emma was taken aback by how angry he looked. She was even more so surprised of his appearance at all. "When the hell did he get here?" She asked herself aloud, and his head instantly snapped in her direction. Gasping quietly, she turned around, her back to him. _Did he hear me? No that's not possible. But.. _Emma edged her head over her shoulder, looking to see if he was still staring. But her shoulders soon relaxed. _Of course. _She thought.

He was gone.

Emma rolled her eyes, turning back around, and suddenly, Derek was standing right in front of her. She jumped, "Oh my—What the hell are you doing!? How the did you get over here?" Emma looked around, her breathing short and shaken.

"What did you see?" He asked, his face set in the same glare he'd given Scott and Stiles.

"I'm sorry?" Emma was still trying to catch her breath.

"What. Did. You. See?" He repeated, stepping closer to her.

"What do you mean, _what did I see_? I have no idea what you're talking about." Emma dropped her hand from her chest, confused and slightly frightened. Although she refused to show it.

"Scott and Stiles. You were watching them." Derek pointed a finger at her, and she stepped back to avoid the chance of him touching her.

"Yes, as one does when they're watching a lacrosse practice," Emma lifted her chin towards him, crossing her arms. "What's wrong with Scott and Stiles?"

Derek suddenly blinked, looking her up and down, and then slowly placing his hands back in his jacket pocket. "Nothing." Then, as if he hadn't just suddenly sprung an interrogation on her, he turned on his heel, prepared to walk away.

Maybe it was the fact she'd been wanting answers since the party, or maybe it was the new lease on life, but either way, she felt a boldness rise in her chest that hadn't previously been.

"Wait—Hang on!" Emma ran up to him, stopping once she was in front of him. "What was that back there? How did you get to me so fast, you were on the other side of the field one second, and then behind me the next."

"You were mistaken. It was 5 minutes in between. You stood frozen, I took the chance to run over." He didn't even look at her. He just kept his eyes forward and his lips in a thin line.

"No, I wasn't," Emma corrected. "And you questioning me about Scott and Stiles? How do you even know them? I saw you at the party. You said you were Scott's _friend_, but Stiles acted like he was afraid of you.."

"Look, _kid_," Derek stopped in his tracks, turning to her. "I would suggest you walk away, right now."

"Listen, _bud_," Emma challenged him, "You came up to me first. I answered your questions. I would suggest you answer some of mine." It was pathetic, and Emma could feel her heart pounding in her chest. This was stupid, she didn't even know Derek Hale. He could have been a serial killer for all she knew. Hell, his whole family dies in a fire, and he's the only one to survive? Not to mention him still living in the burnt remains of his house. She'd heard all the stories. Talk about a creep. And here she was challenging him as though he couldn't follow her out to the parking lot after, and end her life. Still, curiosity killed the cat, and she was very curious about Derek Hale and what he knew about Scott and Stiles.

Derek looked at her long and hard, looking her over as if he was evaluating something. Emma felt scrutinized, and she wrapped her arms around herself uncomfortably, before Derek's face relaxed, and he looked up at her. "You're _sick_.." He said it as though it wasn't actually a question. As though he knew something she didn't. The way he said sick made her heart stop briefly. Because he didn't say sick as though he was talking about the common cold. He said sick as if he were talking about something way worse. Something she'd just recently celebrated beating. Emma looked anywhere but his face, feeling even more uncomfortable then she'd previously felt. If the conversation hadn't seemed like a bad idea before, it most certainly did now, and Emma wanted to walk away. "You should go home." He said quietly, and then he walked around her, the grass squeaking beneath his feet as he headed off the field. This time Emma didn't stop him.

She was still left with questions, and standing on the now empty field, she felt even more confused then she had before she'd spoken to Derek. Maybe she'd over thought everything. Maybe nothing was going on with the boys.

Even if there was, maybe it was best that she didn't know.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hmm.. Okay. Talk about a long wait. Firstly, I am so sorry this took so long. With school, and college applications, and my senior play of which I played the lead, I was very very busy. But I am back now, and on a much simpler schedule so I should be getting the chapters out quicker then previous times. Thank you to all of those who have waited patiently, and for all of those kind reviews you left on the previous chapter. You all seriously keep me going and it's the only reason I had inspiration to continue writing this story. I know you probably have a lot of questions about Emma, and everything going on, but I have a lot of answers coming up soon, so just stick around. Also, Lydia will be involved more in upcoming chapters, and we'll see a bit of how I picture her involvement in this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope it made up for the long wait. I promise to have the next update out sooner. Thank you all again. I love you. X**


	7. A New Day

**Open Eyes**

A New Day

* * *

><p><em>We've been stuck now, so long, <em>

_We just got the start wrong_

_One more last try, Imma get the ending right_

_You can't stop this, and I must insist_

_That you haven't had enough_

* * *

><p>By the time Emma got home, the sun was already dwindling behind the grey clouds, and she could sense the storm coming on before the rain droplets fell against her mother's windshield just as they pulled into their driveway. Thoughts still roamed her head about her conversation with Derek Hale. What had she seen? She'd seen Scott McCall pummel Jackson Whittemore to the ground, to the point he had to be taken to the hospital to examine his shoulder. Which, in itself was probably not the best thing to see if Jackson's family ever saw it as reason to press charges. Other then that, Emma couldn't think of anything too out of the ordinary. Scott McCall was probably sick. He had been at the party, and he had been at practice. Unless he too had a condition that he didn't want other's knowing about, she didn't see what Derek felt the need to confront her over. Especially in the manner of which he did so.<p>

He probably was just as weird as everyone had rumored him to be, she figured. At least, she hoped so. Otherwise, she had a feeling Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski had gotten themselves in with the wrong kind of people. Walking into her house, the aroma of Spaghetti hit her nostrils, and she hummed in delight. Spaghetti night was code for 'Dad got off of work early today' meaning, she would receive the much needed family therapy night she could use after the day she had. She pulled off her coat, glancing back at her mom who was shutting the front door behind her.

"Dad's home early," Emma smiled, resting her coat on the hanger. "What movie are we watching tonight?"

Her mom laughed, beginning to take off her own coat. "That is something to ask your father. Although, if I had my pic, I'm dying to check out that new football movie..."

"Which one?" Emma pulled up her sleeves as they began their walk towards the kitchen.

"_When the Game Stands Tall_, I believe? You know, the one with the football coach, and the team that loses a player..." Her mother began to explain and Emma snorted a laugh.

"So, you mean, _every football movie ever_?" Emma lifted her chin confidently, and her mother wrinkled her nose at her.

"Oh, so you're a smart one now are you?" Her mother pulled her into her side, beginning to lift her hand to tickle Emma's neck. Emma barked a laugh, ducking under her mom's arm, and hurrying to push through the kitchen door where her dad was mixing the spaghetti sauce in her mother's pink apron.

"Hey dad!" Emma said breathlessly, pushing the hair that had fallen in her face back.

Her dad glanced at her over his shoulder, smiling. "Hey Emma Bo Bemma. How was school?" He knocked the spoon against the side of the pot and set it down atop a towel on the counter.

"Eh," Emma shrugged, leaning over the counter to pluck a cucumber out of the salad bowl. "It was_ very_ long.."

Her mother came from behind her, walking over to the mail that was waiting atop the fridge. It was something they always did. Come home, get the mail, toss it atop the fridge for mom to rummage through. The fridge was an odd place but they never questioned it.

"Did you run into that Stiles kid?" Her mom asked, flipping through the mail and peeking up at Emma to await her answer.

"Oh yeah. Allison and I were basically avoiding them all day, but they still managed to find ways to get to us and try to apologize." _And somehow Stiles found my number and texted me_, She thought she would keep that to herself, although she'd have to figure out how that happened at a later time.

"_Them_? Did Allison's date ditch the party early as well?" Her dad finally turned, tossing the stove towel over his shoulder and bracing the counter.

"Yes, he did. Just so happens that he's Stiles' best friend as well, so, go figure." Emma did her best to shrug it off, even though her mind was already trailing back to her previous thoughts about Scott, Stiles, and Derek.

"God, you know, you'd think the younger generations would keep some of our traditions when it comes to dating," Her dad seemed genuinely annoyed before her mother cut in with a smirk.

"You mean like, not being a _dick_?" She raised an eyebrow, walking over to their wine cabinet and pulling out a bottle of Apothic, Red Wine.

"Precisely." Her father pointed a finger, his own mouth quirking into a slight smile. Emma's mother breathed a laugh, beginning to pour two glasses.

Emma rolled her eyes, waving her hand. "It's fine. I mean like Allison said, we dodged the bullet early. Besides, Stiles wasn't even a _date_, he was just an acquaintance giving me a ride." She reached over once more, pulling out a baby tomato from the bowl and popping it into her mouth.

"Still doesn't excuse his actions. That boy will have a lot to hear from me should he come back around." She knew her dad was serious, and for that she hoped Stiles would never come back around. Although, after today, she felt that wouldn't be a problem. Especially after the way he'd looked at her. Like he'd given up. So much for the speech in the car.

Emma's phone began to buzz in her pocket, and she swallowed down the rest of her tomato as she pulled it out to check the caller ID. _Allison Argent_. "Shoot." She forgot to call her and tell her what happened at practice. Mostly because, nothing really did happen in terms of the boys trying their millionth attempt at apologizing. She figured Jackson getting his shoulder put out of his socket by Scott, and her encounter with Derek Hale was most likely noteworthy however.

"What is it?" Her mom lowered her glass from her lips.

"Nothing. I forgot I promised to call Allison when I got home," Emma hovered her thumb over the answer button. "How long until dinner?"

"You've got a good 20 minutes.." Her dad nodded, looking at the pasta still cooking.

Emma smiled thankfully, pressing answer and hurrying out of the kitchen. "Hey, sorry I didn't call, I just got home––"

"––_I'm not interrupting dinner or anything, Am I_?" Allison asked, sounding slightly on the edge of her toes. Emma frowned.

"No, you're fine. It's not even done cooking. What's up?" Emma plopped on her living room couch, tucking her feet beneath her.

"_Okay. So, after school, right when I left you, I ran into Scott._" Allison began in a hurried voice, and Emma could practically see the girl pacing in her room.

"Promising beginning to a story. Go on." Maybe this would explain why Scott was out of it during practice. He'd probably ran into Allison, she'd turned his apology down, and voila, day ruined.

"––_And so, he's sitting there, waiting for me, but before he begins talking I stop him and say So, what happened, you left me stranded at the party? Because yano, after the entire day, I just needed answers. Which I know is stupid, because it completely diminishes the purpose of avoiding he and Stiles all day, but I––_" Allison was beginning to nervously ramble, and Emma was quick to stop it, raising her hand as though Allison could see her through the phone.

"––Allison! Slow down. It's alright. What did he say?" Now Emma was curious.

Allison blew a gust of air out of her mouth, "_He said that he was really sorry, and that I just had to trust that he had a really good reason.._"

"Still not an answer." Emma pointed out, and Allison forced a nervous laugh.

"_Yeah, I know. So then, I pressed on, and I asked if he had gotten sick? Cause, he had looked a little flushed and like he had a headache before he rushed out,_" Allison seemed to be thinking out loud rather then talking to Emma, but she soon snapped back in. "_And he said, that he definitely had an attack of something, which again wasn't an answer..._"

"So, he basically danced around being straightforward?" Emma sighed, beginning to play with the feathers poking out of one of her couch pillows.

"_Basically. Which, I noticed too. So, I stopped walking and I asked if I was going to get an explanation. But by this point, I had already loosened up a bit, because he did seem genuine.. then he asked me to just find it in my heart to trust him on this one.._" Allison's voice grew a bit cheerier, and Emma could tell that Allison and Scott were probably back on good terms.

"Let me guess what you said..." Emma cleared her throat jokingly. "Of course, Scott." She mocked, laughing.

"_No_!" Allison scolded playfully. "_I asked him if I was going to regret trusting him.. and get this, he said 'probably'.._"

"He did not." Emma gaped. This kid definitely knew how to sell it. "Allison.."

"_I know. I know. But at least he was honest. Most guys back where I used to live would give me some bullshit about how they'd never make any more mistakes, which––c'mon on, what guy can honestly promise that?_" Allison had a point. Scott hadn't fed her lies, he'd just danced around the truth. And supposedly it had worked.

"I'm assuming this means, you're giving him a second chance?" Emma let her legs stretch out and turned on her back, now laying fully on the couch.

"_Am I horrible?_" Allison winced.

"No! I think it's great that you two talked, and if you feel like he deserves a second chance, then cool beans dude. I mean hey, at least he didn't send Stiles to do his dirty work for him again.." Emma looked at her socks, propped up on the couch and wiggled her toes.

"_..Did Stiles try to apologize to you at practice again?_" Allison asked, feeling slightly guilty to have gushed over her forgiving Scott.

"Not since his text, but I've been dodging him all day. I'm pretty sure he's given up. Which," Emma sighed. "Is what I wanted, right..?"

"_I'm sorry. Maybe he'll try again tomorrow._" Allison tried to lighten the mood.

"I doubt it. But it's fine. We weren't even out on a date. Hardly even friends. He's not obligated to try and salvage an acquaintance-ship. I'm just glad Scott and you are good. I know you like him a lot.." Emma smiled weakly, even though apart of her felt even worse about the day now that Allison had forgiven Scott. She had a point, it completely diminished them ignoring the two all day, and Stiles had probably heard about Allison forgiving Scott by now and guessed that meant if Emma hadn't forgiven him by the time Allison had Scott, she wouldn't.

"_That's true,_" Allison's voice trailed away from the phone, and Emma could hear a voice join her in the background. "_Yeah, i'll be right down.._" Allison said, and then Emma could feel her press the phone back to her ear. "_Hey, Emma_?"

"You gotta go?" Emma asked.

"_Yeah._" Allison expressed meekly. "_Sorry. I can call you back after dinner.._"

"No, it's all good. I actually should head to the dinner table myself. I'll just see you tomorrow." Emma began to push herself up off the couch.

"_Okay! Talk to you then!_" Allison sing-songed, "_Bye!_"

"Bye!" Emma pulled the phone from her ear, and clicked '_end_'.

It wasn't that much of a surprise that Scott and Allison had made up. It's what happened when two people liked each other, and wanted to be something more then friends. But she'd just wished it would have happened at the beginning of the day. Maybe then she would have heard Stiles out. See what his explanation was, and not feel slightly shitting for ignoring him.

She knew she had every right to be upset with the kid, but grudges were never Emma's thing, and after the promise of possibly becoming friends, she'd felt a little disappointed that things hadn't worked out. Still, there was nothing she could do about it now. Everything was said and done. Stiles probably figured she hated him, and they'd probably fall back into their routine of her pretending he didn't exist, and him pretending not to care. They just weren't meant to be friends. Whether or not it was fate or Emma who had decided that, was the only question.

Walking back towards the kitchen, she stopped short in front of the hallway mirror, placing her phone down on the wall table and pulling her hair up into a high ponytail before running a hand over her face. She just wanted to eat spaghetti, watch a movie with her parents, and go to bed. No more thoughts of Stiles and whatever had happened the night of the party. It was time to live and forget. Even if he was done apologizing. Placing her hands on her cheeks, she gave herself a nod in the mirror. Her mind was made up, she'd made the right decision.

Her phone began to buzz on the table, practically shaking it's way off, and she jumped, catching it just before it clattered to the ground. _**Call From: Unknown**_

"Who the.." She placed the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"_Emma?_" The voice on the other end asked, the voice sounding surprised she'd answered.

"Speaking." Emma furrowed her brow.

"_H-Hey, it's Stiles,_" Emma's eyes widened, and she turned away from the mirror. "_Could you come outside for a second?_"

"Outside?" Emma questioned, still in shock that he'd called her.

"_Yeah... I'm kind of outside your house,_" He was quick to cut her off before she questioned his location. "_––Which! I know is really creepy, probably. And if you want me to go, I will completely understand. But I was just out picking up dinner for my dad and I, and I started thinking about today and how shitty it felt knowing you were upset with me, and I didn't want to keep being that guy that tries to apologize over the phone anymore..._"

Emma's mouth propped open, and she ran back to her living room, glancing out the window. Sure enough, Stiles stood on her front porch, phone to his ear, and free hand wringing nervously. A hand flew to her mouth, and she heard light footsteps come from the kitchen.

"Emma?" Emma's head snapped in the direction. "Babe, dinner's almost ready." Her mom's head poked around the corner.

"Coming," Emma managed to get out, allowing her mom to nod and walk back to the kitchen. Emma quickly turned back to the window. "Stiles, now isn't really a good time.."

"_I know. I'm sorry,_" She watched as the boy squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his knuckles to his forehead. "_You probably think I'm really stupid. I should have called first, I just didn't think you'd answer after the way today went..._"

Emma relaxed slightly, chewing the inside of her cheek. "I would have answered." She admitted, letting the blinds slip from her fingers.

Stiles grew silent on the other end, before speaking. "...Y-You would've?"

Emma nodded, as though he would see. "I would've."

Again he grew silent, and Emma lifted the blind once more to see the boy pull the phone away from his ear and spit a 'i'm so stupid' from his lips, a red hue growing on his cheeks. He practically smacked the phone back against his ear. "_I could like, drive back down the street and call you.. we can try this whole thing over––_" Emma jumped off the couch, rushing towards the front door, and yanking it open. "––Again.." Stiles' voice left him as Emma came into his view.

He stood, his mouth propped open and his eyes wide, not expecting her sudden arrival. Emma dropped her arm, taking her phone with it and ending the call. "You were saying?" She tucked her lips in, the adrenaline that had given her the strength to run to the door evaporating.

Stiles still had his phone to his ear, not yet moving. Emma raised an eyebrow. Jolting, Stiles tore it away, swallowing as his nerves set in. He'd spent the past hour planning what he would say, and now it was clear he couldn't even form a single thought. "Hi," was all he managed, and he instantly shut his eyes, wishing that he could evaporate. Emma felt her lips slip into a knowing smile, before she leaned against the door frame, awaiting for him to gather himself.

Licking his lips, Stiles shoved his phone in his pocket, déjà vu settling on his mind. "I'm really glad you came to the door. I'm sure any longer and your neighbors would have called my dad saying there's a strange kid waiting outside your house."

"I gotta be honest, showing up on my porch unannounced totally qualifies you as a creep. Right next to the mail man and Girl Scouts with their seductive thin mints." Emma joked.

"I love thin mints," Stiles rounded his lips.

"_Everyone_ loves thin mints. It's why Girl Scouts are so successful. We can't turn them away. I swear it should be considered child labor." Emma crossed her arms with a sigh. It was then she noticed the crinkle of his brow. "What? What's this look?" She waved her finger around her face.

"You—You're being surprisingly cavalier, and I don't know whether or not you're being serious, or if this is just a trap and you're prepared to rip off my head in the next 10 seconds..." Stiles eyed her suspiciously.

"Well, not _in the next 10 seconds_. Then I'd miss the apology and explanation you've prepared for me..." Emma tilted her head in his direction expectantly. Technically it _had_ been a trap. She'd wanted to ease his nerves so that he could be better prepared when she turned the moment into an interrogation.

Stiles clearly had fallen for it, seeing as his face paled and he instantly began to fumble with the hem of his shirt. "Right, listen.. I'm so sorry, about leaving you like that. It was crazy, and I wasn't thinking clearly, it's just that Scott—" he stopped short, his eyes landing back on her, and Emma tilted her head.

"Scott..._What_?" Emma could tell Stiles had felt he'd said too much, because he looked away from her clenching his jaw. "Don't stop there, Stilinski, you were just getting somewhere."

"Anyways," He continued, completely ignoring her. "I was a huge dick, and you didn't deserve any of that. I know it's a lot to forgive, but if you could just be willing to give me a second chance, I promise to make it up to you."

Emma pursed her lips, her arms still crossed. Dancing around the question, just like Scott. These two were definitely hiding something. "There's something you're not telling me..." Emma said quietly, her eyes tracing his face and taking in every detail as the boy began to fidget beneath her gaze.

"What? Why would I? I have nothing to hide. I have no idea what you're referring to I—" Stiles began to trip over his words and Emma rolled her eyes.

"—_Stiles_!" She gave him a look, and he instantly shut up, knowing that there was nothing he could say to convince her of otherwise. Figuring stuff out and asking questions ran in her blood. It was only natural that she was a very curious teenage girl. Sticking her nose in others' business even without realizing it. But today she realized it. Especially with the way the questions about Scott and Stiles ran through her mind. She'd waited all day for the satisfaction that an apology would bring her, and now all she felt was her hesitance to forgive him. She hardly knew him, or what he was into, and she like Allison would probably regret allowing him into her life. Still, when Stiles swallowed, and kicked at a pebble resting beneath his feet, Emma knew then what she'd decided to do. "Okay, Stiles, you want a second chance, you'll have it.." Stiles perked up and she was quick to stop him. "On _one_ condition!" His shoulders fell, and he took in a shaky breath.

"...Which is?" He mumbled, afraid of her answer.

She stepped further out, closing the door behind her, and Stiles slowly walked back. "I'll accept this apology, but only if you promise that at _some point_, you're going to tell me what's going on with you." She looked up at him, and it was the first time she'd realized how much the boy towered over her. They were definitely not 12 year olds anymore.

Stiles said nothing for a long moment, as he deliberated in his head. For a split second, Emma was prepared for him to call off the deal, and walk back to his jeep, leaving her the same way he had at the party. But instead, he sighed, scratching his forehead, "You sure you want to know all of the dirty little secrets of a teenage boy?"

Emma stomped her foot in annoyance, glaring up at him, and he laughed, lifting his hands in surrender.

"Alright. Yeah. Okay? I promise. _At some point_, I will tell you whatever you wanna know." He lowered his hands slowly, eying her as if she would suddenly jump at him. "You're really intimidating you know that?"

"I've heard that," Emma said it as if it was nothing new, because it wasn't.

"That doesn't—concern you, at all..?" He shook his head.

"No." Emma raised her eyebrows, smiling.

"No? Okay, I figured that," He broke into a chuckle, and Emma was quick to join him, falling into a small laugh. For a moment they just looked at each other and smiled. Because it felt right not to be ignoring each other. It felt right for Emma to forgive him. Maybe it was just Stiles' ability to express his wit and charm when it most mattered, but frankly, Emma couldn't care. If anything they would turn out to be good friends, and maybe then Emma would feel comfortable interrogating him with all of her questions. For now though, dinner was waiting, and she couldn't wait any longer without her parents coming to check on her and giving Stiles the third degree.

"I should, probably get back inside." Emma stood up straight, reaching behind her and fumbling for the door knob.

"Oh, Yeah. I should, probably get home too, before my dad breaks the lock on the snack cabinet." He sucked at his teeth as he remembered.

"You have a lock on your snack cabinet?" Emma frowned.

"It's a long story.." Stiles squinted his eyes as he nodded slow, clearing having an image in his head.

"I'm sure," Emma couldn't help but laugh, opening the door and stepping over the threshold. "See you tomorrow."

"_Yes!_ Tomorrow." Stiles snapped, his face bright with glee. "I will see me—I mean, you. I will see you and you will see...me." He slapped a hand to his face. "Alright. I'm just gonna go retrieve my book on the English language."

"You do that..." Emma bit her lip, trying to hold in yet another laugh. She couldn't help it. "Goodnight, Stilinski."

"Goodnight, Asher." He covered the laugh for him, laughing at himself as he turned and walked back towards his jeep.

Emma closed the door, and rested her back against it. Just as her mother came from out the kitchen with her fork in hand. "Emma, honey, let's get a move on it. Nobody likes cold spaghetti."

"Coming." Emma replied, hurrying towards the kitchen.

* * *

><p>The next day Emma made sure to get to school early to meet Allison. She wanted to talk about her conversation with Stiles before there was a chance that he or Scott would wound up butting into their conversation. Her mother wasn't too fond of the idea of rushing to get out of the house 30 minutes before necessary, but Emma could be persuasive, and before her mother knew it, Emma had the women putting on her makeup and driving at the same time on the way to dropping her off.<p>

Emma had jumped out the car, barely letting her mother pull the lipstick from her lips long enough to say goodbye before she closed the door and hurried into school. It was a bit difficult seeing as she'd chosen to switch it up and wear her black ankle wedges to complete her look that day. It was the only thing that stood out as different to her typical school-wear. She still had on a plain black and white striped long sleeve shirt that hung over her shoulders, and black skinny jeans that were tucked in her shoes. And she'd only put on eyeliner and mascara. Not to mention she hadn't touched her hair, leaving in it's natural waves, hanging down her back. _You can take the girl out of Plain-Jane-ville but you can't take the Plain Jane out of the girl_. Rushing through the school doors, she hurried over to Allison's locker, her wedges tapping on the floor.

"Hey!" She stopped breathlessly in front of the girl just as she popped it open.

"Hey there speedy," Allison crinkled her nose. "Where's the fire?"

"Stiles apologized," Emma released another breath, placing her hands on her knees.

Allison's mouth formed a wide 'O'. "He did!?"

"Yeah," Emma placed a hand on her chest, standing back up but still breathing heavily. "He did, and I am _really_ out of shape."

Allison waved her hands wildly. "Yeah, I couldn't tell from your choking cat breaths—So, what did he say?"

"He—" Emma paused, just then catching onto Allison's comments about her choking cat breaths. "_Hey_."

"What? They _were_ choking cat breaths. Now, Come on, tell me what happened." Allison shoved her books in her locker impatiently, keeping the ones she needed tucked under her arm.

"Okay. Well he showed up at my house," Emma rested against the locker beside Allison's. "And he apologized for being a dick, and said that he wasn't thinking clearly, that he was just worried about Scott and all of this other stuff.."

"And did you forgive him?" Allison closed her locker, fumbling to put the lock back on it.

"_Yes_, but I told him that the only way I'd forgive him, is if he promised to tell me everything I wanna know at some point.." Emma raised her bag up on her shoulder.

"Bargaining. Smart choice. Why didn't I think of that?" Allison scrunched up her lips.

"Because you've got the hots for Scott McCall." Emma blew kisses into the air, and Allison pretended to gag.

"_Gross_. So, does this mean there won't be any awkwardness when you sit with us at lunch today?" People began walking into the school, and Emma glanced at the clock near the end of the hall. 7:17. The bell would ring in 2 minutes.

"Hopefully. But if Lydia Martin is there, I can't make you any promises. Things can get pretty ugly between she and I.." Emma admitted as the pair began to walk down the hallway towards Chemistry.

"Whatever happened between you two anyways?" Allison looked towards Emma, awaiting a story.

"That would be a question to ask the Queen herself. She's the one who started the war. For reasons beyond me." Emma tried to think to herself when the bitterness between she and Lydia began, and she couldn't really remember. Lydia had just never liked her, and maybe one day the girl would explain to her as to why.

For now though, she couldn't try and figure out the on-going mystery that was Lydia Martin. For now, she had to focus on Chemistry, and how not to get detention for the second time that week.

"Huh." Allison thought over what Emma said, her eyes scoping out the halls as she thought. "Oh, there's Scott!" She pointed out, her footsteps unknowingly picking up their pace. Emma's eyes widened as she tried to keep up with the girl, who was already meeting him halfway down the steps. "Hey!" Allison stopped in front of him, and Emma had to grip the railing to avoid bumping into her.

Scott's head lifted, and his eyes crinkled as his smile took up his whole face. "Hey..." Emma glanced at the phone in his hands, and he pressed the top button to click it off.

"Busy?" Apparently Allison had noticed it too, and Scott was already slipping the phone away.

"No, no. It's just, uh—my mom, she's nothing." He shrugged, and both the girls glanced at each other with frowns. That's one way to talk about ones mother. Scott quickly realized his mistake. "I mean, _it's_ nothing. Uh, I'm never busy for you."

Emma could barf at how cheesy that line was. Allison however, ate it up, her cheeks blushing. "I like the sound of that." It was like a love fest in front of her, and Emma tried her best to tune them out. Clearing her throat, she caught Allison's attention, and she flashed her the time on her phone. 7:19. 1 minute until the bell. "Uh, well listen," Allison turned back to Scott. "I have to run to Chemistry class, but I wanted to tell you that I'm coming to see you play tomorrow."

"You...are?" Scott's smile fell quickly, and Emma cocked her head to the side at his reaction. _Was that a bad thing?_

Allison didn't seem to notice, continuing. "...And we're all going out afterwards. You, me, Lydia, Jackson, Emma—"

"—_Emma_?!" Emma spoke up suddenly, not aware that she had plans. Allison again, continued on without stopping.

"It's gonna be _great_. Tell Stiles to come too," Allison finished with a plan that left both Scott and Emma gaping at the girl. The bell rang, and Allison looked down at the books in her hand. "Oh, shoot! I forgot my binder.—Uh, save me a seat at lunch, I gotta go!" She ran past the two of them, leaving them dumbfounded on the steps.

"Oh god.." Scott groaned, turning back to face Emma. "Did you know about this?"

"Not a clue. I didn't even think _hanging out, Emma, _and_ Lydia_ could even be used in the same sentence." Emma shuddered.

"Tell me about it." He ran a hand through his hair.

"I thought you were friends with them?" Emma questioned.

"Not by choice. Lydia sunk her claws into Allison before I got the chance to advise her of otherwise. Now the girl I like and the school witch are _besties_." He said the last word with a feminine flare, and Emma had never enjoyed his company more.

"Yeah. Ouch." Emma nodded, feeling sorry for the kid. "We should really get to class though. I'll see you at lunch, I guess."

"Yeah, see ya." Scott dropped his head in defeat, walking in the direction of his class.

Lunch would be interesting.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I honestly don't know how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it. I'll be on winter break soon, and hopefully the updates will come more frequently. Also since December is almost over, I'd like to get to the Winter Formal before the new year, since it wouldn't make any sense to have it in any other month. To those who continued to comment, thank you for sticking with me. I hope to get more from you, but for those I get believe me they mean the world! X**


	8. Kiss and Tell

**Open Eyes**

Kiss and Tell

* * *

><p><em>I have a little tiny confession<em>

_I don't know what to do_

_Oh, I have a little tiny obsession_

_With something that's attached to you_

* * *

><p>Emma sat on her bed, her text book resting on her comforter and her binder snug in her lap. Homework. She hated homework. In fact she was pretty sure she would rather eat the mystery meat at school for the entire rest of her high school year, then ever have to do homework again. Her hand froze on her paper as she thought about that alternative. Yeah. She totally would. Nodding to herself she concluded that homework was worth possible food poisoning. Blowing out air from her cheeks, she pushed her binder off of her and leaned back against her head board.<p>

She was in need of a break. French would just have to wait. Rome wasn't built in a day, after all. Wait, that was Italy. She shook her head, placing her hands on her flustered cheeks, and shutting her eyes. She could fall asleep right there, and not wake up until tomorrow morning when school became relevant again.

Her eyes trailed to her phone, and she placed her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling in contemplation. It wouldn't kill her to talk to someone. She'd been working since she'd gotten home, and tomorrow was game day. Slipping her hands to rest around her neck she thought the idea over once more before leaning over, and grabbing it off her bedside table. Just one, short, phone call. Then she'd go back to working on _cours de francais_. Her lips lifted into a smile, her thumb hovering over the recent name ID, placed in her phone as of Tuesday. The same day she'd eaten lunch at the same table as Scott, Stiles, Allison, and oh yeah, Lydia and Jackson. She rolled her eyes at the memory.

_Emma walked out of the lunch line, a carton of milk in her hands and a paper plate filled with French Fries. She looked over the sea of students. Some eating, some not, some talking about the latest rumor in the mill. And some, like Emma, stood searching the room for an open seat or a table of their choice._

_Emma knew where she was going. She knew the exact location of the table she was meant to arrive at. Everyone knew of the table she was looking for. It was the table with the strawberry blonde typically choosing to eat her lacrosse captain of a boyfriend's face as opposed to an actual meal. Her stomach dropped at the thought of it. And she wondered why she'd agreed to eat lunch with Allison's at Lydia's table to begin with. But, Scott and Stiles would be there, and she was sure she'd have them to stick through it with._

_Catching sight of Allison, who lifted a delicate hand and waved with a smile, she lifted her shoulders, taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing, she plastered on a smile and walked towards the group of peers. Stiles was there, picking at his food with his chin in his palm, looking miserable. Scott, found solitude in Danny, talking about practice. Emma didn't fail to notice he and Allison's hands wrapped around each other. And Allison awaited her arrival patiently, her eyes glistening. "Emma!" She greeted, catching everyone's attention._

_Stiles flicked his eyes up, dropping his fork in surprise. He soon after relaxed into a smile, and Emma returned it, happy that it didn't feel weird to do. She could have sworn she heard Scott whisper 'Oh, thank god', but she ignored it for his sake, and for Allison's. She probably wouldn't be too happy to hear that._

_"Hey," Emma gave a nod, placing her carton and plate on the table. She stood, shrugging off her bag and making sure she didn't fall as she attempted to slide onto the bench._

_Lydia didn't fail to greet Emma in her own way, lifting a perfectly manicured finger in her direction with a look of annoyance. "Uh, I'm sorry, who invited you?" Jackson leaned forward on his elbows, suddenly aware of her presence since his girlfriend ended their PDA._

_"I did," Allison spoke up, placing a forkful of salad leaves in her mouth. "Why?"_

_Lydia didn't seem to know how to respond to that answer, licking her lips and lifting her head in speculation. "Because, Allison, there are rules," Lydia forced a smile. "I mean it's bad enough we have to sit with McCall and his plus 1.."_

_"It's Stiles," Stiles blurted, his eyes widening as he realized he'd spoken aloud._

_"What?" Lydia rolled her eyes, her attention now on him._

_Stiles seemed to get choked up with her eyes on him, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth. "Uh, nothing, I just..My name is Stiles, not Plus 1. I just wanted to get that out."_

_"Uh-huh, sure," Lydia waved him off, turning back to Allison. "Next time, just let me know when you're going to bring back yet another stray..Sound clear?" She made it sound as though she was joking, but the entire table knew she was far from kidding about the way of which she preferred her table hierarchy._

_"_Crystal_," Allison rubbed her hands along her thighs, trying to push down her urge to bite back at her. But Allison was new, and it probably wasn't smart to make enemies this early into her first year. Especially, Lydia._

_Emma shoved a fry in her mouth, avoiding eye contact with Lydia and the tension that was resting over the table. After a few moments, Stiles nodded to her plate. "Aren't they crappy?" He twisted his face in disgust._

_Emma glanced at the fries on her plate. "Eh. They're good enough considering what else is served in the school. Then again, I've always been more of a _curly fry_ person so..either way it's unsatisfactory." Shrugging she went back to picking through the pile for a good fry._

_Scott and Stiles looked at each other, looking surprised, and Scott nudged him laughing. Emma bit the tip off another fry, confused. "What's so funny?" She began to chew._

_"Stiles is _addicted_ to curly fries. Like, it may be a problem," Scott looked at his friend as he laughed again. "He gets them everyday with his dad. But he won't let his dad eat greasy food, so he basically gets 2 bags all to himself. I'm surprised it isn't showing." Scott smacked his friends stomach._

_"Okay, I _do not_ get _2_ bags everyday," Stiles defended, and then looked back at Emma. "It's just like once or twice a week."_

_"Mmm, I see," Emma laughed and then went to open her carton. "Seems like you do have a bit of a problem there Stiles. Maybe you should see someone about that." Scott threw his head back laughing, excited that someone else joined him in his mockery, but Stiles just glared at her, snatching a fry off of her plate and tossing it at her. Emma gasped, as it got caught in her hair. "You just wasted a fry!"_

_"Who's laughing now, Asher?_ Kaboom_." He flicked his hands, and smirked. Emma picked up the fry, tossing it on her napkin._

_"You're gonna pay for that," she warned._

_"Sure I will," Stiles flashed her a devious smile, and Allison turned to them finally._

_"What are you two bickering about?" She rested her chin against Scott's shoulder._

_"Oh nothing. Stiles has just began a war," Emma didn't leave Stiles' stare._

_"Ah, wonderful. Now you're in two wars." Allison wiggled her brow, and Emma finally looked at her, knowing very well she was referring to Lydia. "So, soldiers, you're coming to hang out with us after the game right?"_

_"Uh," Emma began to shake her head. "I've got.. Chores and..."_

_"...My dad really wants me home by.." Stiles joined in with his own excuse, until both of them were talking over each other._

_"_Guys_!" Allison stopped them both, allowing them to get their final words._

_"Cheese puffs." Emma finished, as Stiles completed his explanation with "Prison bitch."_

_Emma and Stiles both looked at eachother._

_"What are you talking about, _Prison Bitch_?" Emma asked, finding his final word amusing._

_"I could ask you the same question, _Cheese Puff_." Stiles clicked his tongue, prepared for a challenge, should the girl comment on his choice of words._

_"Okay, enough," Allison played mediator. "No more busy bullshit. You guys have to come."_

_"Id like to wait until my lawyer arrives," Stiles joked, smacking his hand on the table. Scott pinched the bridge of his nose at his friends' inability to be serious for more than a second._

_"_Stiles_.." Scott groaned. "For the love of god,"_

_"What?" Stiles let his laugh fade and then he sighed. "Look. I'm sorry, but if you honestly think that hanging out with _them_," he nodded over to Lydia and Jackson who were back to looking at each other with love filled eyes. "Is something I'm interested in doing, you're out of your mind. It's not exactly on my list of priorities to watch the two or them go at it.."_

_The way Stiles said that reminded her of the night of the party. She'd completely forgotten that Stiles had feelings for Lydia. It was hard too, when he acted so annoyed with her half the time. She realized now it was more so he was annoyed with her and Jackson, together. Made sense. Aside from being a bitch, Lydia was beautiful. Emma had to give her that._

_"It's true. That would be like torturing my best friend. I don't know if I'm up for that..." Scott looked at Allison with apologetic eyes._

_Allison rested into a pout. "Well, okay, what if we all just hang out? The four of us?"_

_"I could be down for that," Scott turned to Emma and Stiles, desperately. "Guys?"_

_Stiles looked at Emma, trying to have a silent conversation with her with his eyes. Sadly, they weren't that good of friends yet, so the messages failed to send. Hesitantly, Stiles began to express his opinion, folding out his hands, "I'm not against it..Emma what do you think?"_

_"Uh," Emma sat silent. The idea of her hanging out with all of them out of school frightened her. It would confirm that they all were in fact friends, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that. Especially with Stiles and his probationary period in tact. But seeing all of their pleading eyes, she relented. "_Sure. Why not?"__

_"Cool!" Scott smiled brightly. "So, I guess, I'll pick up Allison, and you can pick up Emma?"_

_"Why don't we just take one car?" Stiles just had to ask, and Emma wanted to smack him for his idiocy. Clearly, Scott had suggested such things because he wanted to have time alone with Allison before their group outing. Even she could see that, and she wasn't even Scott's best friend. Finally, it clicked in Stiles' head and he jutted his head forward. "Oh! Right. Yeah, cool. Sounds like a plan." Stiles winked at Scott, proud of his friend. __Emma lifted her carton to her lips and took a gulp, just as Stiles turned to her, his hand outstretched. "Phone." He said nonchalantly._

_Emma blinked, "What?"_

_"Your phone," He moved his fingers. "Let me see it.."_

_Emma slowly sat her carton down. "Why...?"_

_"Oh, just give it to me, would you?" He waved his hand impatiently._

_"Jeez Louise, Fine!" she pulled her phone out. "Here, you weirdo." Dropping it into Stiles hand she began to run her tongue over her teeth in hopes to clean any food bits._

_Stiles flipped her phone case over in his hand, and his eyes popped out. "_The Mets_!?"_

_"Yes? Why?" If he had a problem with the Mets he could forget the probationary period or being friends. Her family was a Mets household, and he couldn't be otherwise._

_"Here we go.." Scott stretched, tiredly._

_"I am the #1 Mets fan in the entire California state area, I always say blue and orange run in my veins." He said, still in complete shock. "Where did you get this!?"_

_"It was a Christmas present.." Emma looked to Scott who was smiling at her weirdly._

_"I don't even—like how—I just—" Stiles was at a loss for words. "That is so cool. We're going to have to discuss this at another time.." He turned her phone back forward, tapping his fingers quickly along the screen._

_"Watch it there Emma, you may be taking my spot as best friend.." Scott was joking, but apart of her felt somewhat accomplished._

_"Shut up," Stiles responded, his voice distracted as were his hands as he continued to work on her phone, his tongue sticking out his lips in concentration._

_"What are you—" Emma tried to catch a glimpse, and Stiles shushed her. "_You_ shush, ass."_

_Finally the boy clicked off her phone, and slid it across the table to her. "_There_. Now I won't have to show up announced when I pick you up Friday." He had a look on his face that said he knew something she didn't._

_Emma gently took her phone back in her hands, and clicked it on, opening it to her contacts. It didn't take her long to see what his look was about. Her face instantly lit up. There, with a big ol' smile face emoji beside it was his chosen contact ID,_

_Prison Bitch_

Emma clicked on the name, putting it to her ear, and waiting three rings, when Stiles picked up his voice cracking. "_Hello?—Scott, no! Cover it up, I don't want to look at it any more—Emma_?"_  
><em>

"Sorry, is now a bad time?" Emma tucked her knees up to her chest.

"_Uh, kind of,_" He squeaked. "_Whoa, Scott, the flower!_" His voice sounded far from the phone, as though he'd pulled the phone away, and Emma strained to listen.

"_What about it?_" Scott's voice asked curiously.

"_I think it's wolfsbane..._" Stiles must have tried to cover the mouthpiece cause the sound crackled in Emma's ear.

"_What's that?_" Scott whispered, and Emma wondered where exactly the boys were.

"_Haven't you ever seen The Wolf Man?_" A pause. "_Lon Chaney Jr.? ...Claud Rains?!_" Another pause and Emma snorted a laugh, hearing Scott's exasperated confusion.

"Why are you talking about the original werewolf movie?" Emma spoke into the phone, catching Stiles' attention.

"_See!? Emma knows! You had to of seen it!_" Stiles practically pleaded, as if Scott knowing about the 1941 classic was of high importance.

"_No, now what!?_" Scott shouted back impatiently, and Emma heard Stiles' release a sigh.

"_You are so unprepared for this..._" Stiles reprimanded Scott with a hint of disappointment in his voice, and then his words became more clear as he put the phone back to his ear. "_Hey, Emma? I'm gonna call you back later, okay?_"

"No worries! Hey, is everything..." The line clicked off before Emma had a chance to properly say goodbye, or ask him if everything was okay. "Talk to you later then." She sucked in her cheeks, tossing her phone next to her.

Well that went well.

* * *

><p>The next day at school had been just as weird and rushed as her conversation with Stiles the night before. The boys hadn't even bothered to show up to school, leaving she and Allison to face Lydia's table all alone. Only instead of eating lunch, Lydia had dragged them both to the library, where they began working on posters for Jackson. Allison was confused as to why they had to go through much trouble for Jackson, when the entire crowd was going to be shouting his name anyways. Emma was still stuck on that fact that Lydia had allowed her to work on the posters with them.<p>

Lydia had explained that it meant nothing, and that if Emma was going to be hanging around with Allison and their table, she would have to participate in Jackson's support. Emma was too distracted to really care or protest against Lydia's needs. After lunch, news broke out around the school about the other half of a dead body being found in Derek Hale's back yard. The entire school had erupted in chatter over how he committed the crime, and that everyone knew he was crazy from the beginning. Emma stood quiet through it all, things not adding up in her head.

Derek had seemed like a lot of things when she bumped into him, but a killer wasn't one of them.

Then again, most serial killers are very good at putting on the _normal guy_ act. But, Derek had never acted like a normal guy. So, unless he was okay with being brutally obvious in the hopes of getting caught, she didn't see how it made sense. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to get insight onto the case. Including who the victim was, and how she was killed. And the more she wanted to get insight, the more everything began sounding wrong.

It was annoying, having the brain of a lawyer's child. Your mind constantly trying to figure out the guilty or not guilty.

It had taken up the entirety of her day, and by the time the final bell rang, she'd walked out of the school building with a pile of uncompleted worksheets, and bitten nails. Biting her nails had been a habit that she'd been determined to stop since freshman year. It hadn't been working.

Standing in front of the school steps, Emma bounced on the tip of her toes, awaiting her mother. Suddenly, a black Honda rolled in front of her, skidding to a stop, and Emma hopped back to avoid being hit. The windows rolled down, and Allison was in the passenger seat, smiling up at Emma sheepishly. "Allison?"

Allison opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Lydia poking her head around, "Get in loser, we're going shopping!" Lydia called blandly, before she squealed clapping her hands. "Oh, god, I've always wanted to say that."

"What's this?" Emma motioned to the car with an amused gaze.

"Lydia thought it would be cool to hang out before the game. Yano, so we can all ride in the same car and help carry in the signs we made..." Allison nodded to the signs resting in the backseat.

"Oh." Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? But I thought _there were rules_..?"

Lydia didn't miss Emma's jibe toward her, and she paused amidst cleaning up the lipgloss on her lips to force a smile. "Oh, how _cute_..." Snapping her head to look at Emma she closed her compact mirror. "Emma, don't be immature. We're clearly all going to be seeing a lot of each other, however _unfortunate_ that may be," If this was Lydia's idea of calling a truce she was failing miserably. "So, let's just get this whole awkward first hang, out of the way, shall we?"

Emma hissed through her teeth. "I don't know... It's weird."

"How do you think _I_ feel? I'm letting you come to my _house_. Do you realize how big of a deal that is?" Lydia placed a hand on her chest, keeping the other on the wheel.

"I could only imagine..." Emma's voice was monotone as she pretended to care.

"Come or don't come. I was just trying to be a decent human being," Lydia settled back into her seat, facing forward. Emma's blood boiled, and she gripped her fists at her side, flicking her eyes to Allison in hopes that she would understand that hanging out was impossible. Allison finally saw her chance to speak up, resting her chin on the window.

"It'll only be for a _few_ hours. The game starts at 7..Besides, I have to leave early anyways cause my dad want's me to meet him in front of the school before the game starts. And I want to get good seats.." Allison tried to make the situation seem better, and once again Emma could already feel herself caving.

Looking from Allison to Lydia, she tapped her index finger on her bag strap. "...As long as you're going be cordial.." She nods to Lydia, who slyly faces her.

"When am I _not_?" Lydia herself knew that she was far from cordial, ever when it came to Emma, but it wasn't as though she was going to admit it. "Now are you getting in or not?"

Emma slipped out her phone. "Yeah, let me just... let my mom know." Opening the back door, Emma tossed her bag inside, dialing her mom's number and pressing the phone to her ear.

"_Emma? Sorry hon, I know I'm running a bit late,_" Her mom sounded rushed and out of breath.

"Hey, mom it's okay! Have you left the office yet?" Emma stuck her thumb nail between her teeth and Lydia gagged.

"_No, I'm trying to babe. We just got landed with this new case, and.._" Her mom suddenly groaned. "_Dammit, where did I put that thing!?_"

"That actually works because uhm, I got invited to hang out with some..." Emma glanced up at Lydia who was shoving a piece of gum into her mouth with a roll of her eye. ".._Friends_."

"_Oh sure! Yeah, go have fun sweetheart!_" It didn't take a scientist to realize her mom was hardly involved in the conversation, and Emma could see the woman flipping through a stack of paper as she talked. "_Will you be home for dinner?_"

"No, the game is tonight, and I was gonna head there with them as well. That okay?" Emma leaned against the open door, and Lydia revved the engine.

"Let's _go_ already," She twined her fingers around the leather coated wheel. "I'm _starving_."

Emma sent her a glare, and then focused back on her mother's voice. "_That's fine, just let us know if you need one of us to pick you up._"

"Okay, I love you." Emma slipped in the car as she ended the call, slamming the door. "Jeez, rude much?"

"Whatever," Lydia flicked her hair over her shoulder, "Listen, we have to make a pit stop at the hospital. I'm picking up Jackson from his last shot. Should only take a second."

"His last shot?" Allison frowned. "For what?"

"Oh, I don't know. _McCall_ knocking his shoulder out of his socket? The doctor agreed to shoot him up with some pain meds so he can play tonight." Lydia seethed through clenched teeth.

"Scott _did_ that!?" Allison gasped, and Emma slunk in her seat.

"Yeah, he didn't tell you?" Lydia pretended as though she didn't find pleasure in possibly causing Allison to be upset with Scott.

"No.." Allison pondered, looking at her hands. "I mean, Jackson's okay though right? If he's playing? People get hurt at practice all the time..."

"Whatever gets you through the day babe. If you want to ignore your boyfriend's aggression issues, go ahead. But if the team loses tonight because of Jackson's bummed shoulder, it'll be Scott's fault." Lydia came to a stop light, and began to check herself out in the rearview mirror.

"He's not my_ boyfriend_.." Allison mumbled, suddenly seeming ashamed.

Emma leaned forward, resting her head on the back of Allison's seat. "Isn't Jackson going to see the posters if we pick him up?"

"_Obviously_ I'm going to put them in the trunk, Emma." Lydia said matter-of-factly. "How stupid do you think I am?"

Honestly, Emma didn't think Lydia was stupid at all. The girl had a genius level IQ and if she wanted to, she could probably win a medal for her brain. She just thought the girl made stupid decisions. For instance: _Dating Jackson_. Emma thought it better not to voice these concerns, and rested back quietly playing QuizUp for the rest of the ride.

Once they pulled into the parking lot, Emma clicked off her phone, and squinted out the window at Beacon Hills Hospital. Her second home for most of her childhood. "Okay. Let's go," Lydia tore the keys out and popped open her door.

"Wait, what?" Allison looked back at Emma and then Lydia.

Lydia leaned down to look in the car, her hand still on the door. "You're coming inside."

"We are?" Emma droned.

"Yes, _we_ are. Jackson would love it. Seeing us _pretty girls_, and.. Emma there to welcome him with a congrats on his quick recovery." Lydia's smile slipped as neither girls looked as though they would move. "_Hello_!?" She waved her arms wildly, and Allison sighed angrily, pushing open her door.

Both Allison and Lydia slammed their doors, and Emma flinched, unsure of whether or not she wanted to obey Lydia Martin's orders for the second time that day. She wouldn't want the girl to think that would become a pattern. Allison made up her mind for her, knocking on the window with her knuckle and silently begging Emma to get out.

Emma tightened her lips, grabbing her earphones out of her bag, and pushing the door open. "This _better_ be quick." She closed the door gently, hurrying to get inside with the girls.

The hospital comforted Emma in a way most people wouldn't understand, and she smiled at the familiar faces of doctors as she took a seat in the waiting room. Allison plopped beside her, crossing her legs and resting her clasped hands atop them. Lydia walked up to the counter, asking about Jackson.

"You owe me so much for this," Emma whispered to Allison, not lifting her eyes from her music playlist.

"I know, I'm sorry. She can be difficult.." Allison kept her eyes on Lydia to make sure she wouldn't hear.

"Why is it so important for you to hang out with her anyways?" Emma picked a song, turning to Allison as it began to play in her ear. "You have other friends now, you know?"

"I don't know... I like her," Allison shrugged, and upon Emma's surprised look, Allison looked defeated. "She's been really nice to me these past few days. Showing me around, introducing me to people. It's like she understands how much being the new girl can _suck_..." Picking at her nails, Allison didn't look up. "Besides, I don't think being popular has given her that many true friends.." Both girls trailed their eyes up to Lydia, who was bickering with the receptionist.

"Well, I wonder why! I mean, look how she talks to people!" Emma spit out in a hushed tone.

Allison closed her eyes briefly, and then looked at Emma with her big doe eyes. "...I know you don't like her, and I'm not asking you to but.. Could you just, _deal_ for me? At least just for today?"

This is why having friends was as much of a negative, as it was a positive. Because if she wasn't friends with Allison, and didn't already care about her, she would have ignored the girls sad look, and walked out of the hospital without a care. But because she did care about Allison, she instead slouched into her seat, causing it to squeak, and turned her music up louder.

Allison smiled knowingly. "Thanks.."

"Shut up." Emma playfully glared. Lydia turned finally, strutting over to the them with an annoyed expression.

"They said he'll be another 15 minutes. Who has time for this!?" She folded her arms and forcefully fell into the seat beside Allison.

"I'm sure they were overestimating. Shots take like 5 minutes tops." Allison tucked her hair behind her ear. "...But, while we're waiting, I'm going to head to the bathroom, excuse me.." She stood, tucking her hands in her sleeves and walking towards the hall that had an arrow pointing towards the Restrooms.

Emma felt her body stiffen, and she could feel the awkwardness creep up on her skin as she and Lydia were left alone. Maybe Allison had a point. Lydia had been very welcoming to Allison the past few days, and had even gone so far as to inviting Emma with them on Allison's behalf. The girl seemed to be trying when it came to making friends. Although, with Emma things were a bit more forced then with Allison. Still, if they were going to be hanging around each other more often due to their mutual friend, they would have to get over this awkward stage.

Mustering her confidence, she turned her head to Lydia. "So, uhm... you excited for the Winter Formal?"

Lydia lifted her hand to silence her, pointing to the earpiece that had magically appeared. "Uh-huh... _No way_.." All the confidence Emma had collected evaporated, and she huffed out a breath over her stupidity.

"I'm going to get something from the vending machine." Emma announced, pushing herself out of the chair. "Not that you care," She whispered the last bit to avoid confrontation.

Fingering for change in her back pocket, she pulled out four quarters, and fumbled with them in her hand as she made her way to the machine. It hadn't taken her long to figure out what she wanted. She knew, and her eyes glistened as they landed on the glowing orange pack of Reeses.

She'd only gotten one quarter in the machine, allowing it to clink to the bottom as it registered, before a familiar voice rang in her ears, and she glanced over her shoulder to see if she'd been mistaken. But, she hadn't been. There, beside Lydia, with one hand pressed against the wall, and stupid, dorky grin plastered on his face, was Stiles Stilinski.

Emma quickly hid behind the machine, poking her head out to get a good look at the situation.

"Hey, Lydia," His voice grew higher in pitch due to his nerves, and Emma wanted so badly to laugh. Lydia's head lifted to look at him, confusion on her brow. "You probably don't remember me, uhm, I sit behind you in... _Biology_?" Lydia simply tilted her head, twirling a strawberry blonde piece of hair around her finger. "I sat at your table the other day... Scott's _Plus 1_?" Stiles tried another alternative, only to receive yet another silent response. "Anyway, uhm, I've always thought. That we just kinda had this connection? Y'know _unspoken_, of course..." Emma cringed. This was just painful to watch. "Maybe it with be cool to just, uh, get to know each other.. a little.._better_.." He licked his lips, growing more nervous with each second, and Emma wanted to just walk over and cover his mouth before he embarrassed himself any further.

Lydia dropped the curl in her fingers, "I_—_Hold on, give me a second," She reached for her earpiece, slipping it off. "I didn't get any of what you just said, was it worth repeating?"

Emma smacked a hand to her face, dropping her quarters.

"Uh_—A_ha, _No_." Stiles shook his head, dropping his hand. "Sorry." Lydia nodded to herself, "I'm gonna just... You don't care."

Lydia shrugged, placing the earpiece back on and Stiles stared at her a moment more, in slight disbelief of what he just did. Needing to get away from Lydia and his stupidity, he shoved a hand in his pocket, ripped out his wallet, and began speed walking towards the vending machine. Emma dropped her mouth open, and looked for another place to hide, tucking herself on the wall beside the machine just as Stiles stopped in front of it.

"So, stupid." He whispered to himself. "_Connection_? What was that supposed to be hot? Like, Who even says that? _Oh look Lydia, I think we have a connection, and by the way, I'm a complete dumb-ass aha ha ha_." The voice he put on to mock himself was enough to make Emma have to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The machine hummed as he put a dollar in it, pushing onto the plastic numbers as he found his selection.

"Emma?" A raspy voice spoke up, and Emma snapped her head to see Doctor Lucas, standing with a file in his hands, and his glasses hanging low on his nose. Emma shook her head wildly, pressing a finger to his lips.

It was too late. Stiles was already craning his head around the machine, his brow furrowed. Upon seeing Emma his eyes widened. "_Emma_?"

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to disappear. She lifted her hand, "Hi."

"What the..." He looked at the small space she'd managed to shove herself into in shock. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," Emma lied, sliding out from the wall, and dusting herself off. "Hello, Dr. Lucas."

Stiles looked towards the man, remembering his presence. "We don't have an appointment scheduled for the day do we?" Dr. Lucas pushed back his sleeve to check his watch.

Emma tucked her lips in, shaking her head. "No. I'm here with a friend. She's picking up her boyfriend."

Dr. Lucas nodded. "Oh, you made friends? That's so good to hear..." He smiled, and Emma wanted to strangle him for making it aware of how lonely she'd been before. "This is, one of them, I'm assuming?" He pointed to Stiles.

"Uhm,_—_" Emma wasn't sure how to explain it, without sounding complicated.

"Yes," Stiles answered for her, sticking out his hand. "Stiles Stilinski."

"_Stilinski_.." Dr. Lucas took his hand, his eyes wondering. "You the Sherriff's boy?"

"Yes sir." Stiles smiled proudly.

"Ah, that's nice. Proud of your father's title. He and I used to play lacrosse together back in high school, he tell you that?" Dr. Lucas released Stiles hand.

"No, he didn't actually. That's awesome." Stiles glanced at Emma and then back to the doctor.

"Yeah. John sure was the player. But he was always so curious, yano? Wanting to figure things out. Got him into trouble sometimes, but, looks like that worked out for him in the end." Dr. Lucas flashed a smile and Stiles laughed.

"Thank god for that.." He scratched the back of his neck with a smile. "What's your name? I gotta tell him I ran into you."

"My apologies, Todd Lucas.." Dr. Lucas informed, and Emma smiled.

Dr. Lucas had been Emma's dad away from home when she was in the hospital. Doctors don't admit it much, but they did have favorites, and Emma had surely been one of his. He'd always come in before she went to bed and put on her favorite cartoon, or snuck her an extra cup of ice cream. She grew up practically in the hospital, so she was there when he had his first child, and she was there when that child was big enough to run into her room and leap on her bed, even though Dr. Lucas would come running in afterwards apologizing. He was more then just her doctor, he was a family friend. She hadn't visited him much since things were bad, but he showed up to family dinners every now and again to catch up. Emma respected him more than most, and if anything were to ever happen to her parents, they both knew who she'd wound up with. Dr. Lucas saw Emma as one of his own. For some reason, it made her happy for he and Stiles to be getting along. It made up for her own father's current anger towards the boy.

"...It's nice to meet you too. It's comforting to see Emma hanging out with good people," He placed a hand on Emma's shoulder, and Emma was snapped out of her thoughts. "I will see you in 2 weeks then?"

"Yes." Emma spoke quickly, feeling Stiles eye her. "Although you might want to call my mom. I think she said you were supposed to be coming for dinner this Sunday...?"

"She said that?" Dr. Lucas raised his eyebrows. "Yikes. You're right, I better call her then. It was good talking to you both." He pulled Emma into a quick hug, and then nodded to Stiles before hurrying off.

Emma didn't want to turn to face Stiles, but his eyes were burning soles into her back and she couldn't avoid them any longer. "Will you stop staring at me? It's weird."

"Why were you hiding behind the vending machine?" Stiles asked, and even when she'd been expecting it, she hadn't thought of an answer.

"Why does it matter?" She blurted, and it was sickening how stupid that response had been.

"Uh, because it does?" Stiles responded, and Emma thought his response was just as unplanned. "It seemed like you were trying to hide from me."

"I was not." Emma walked up to the machine, pressing in the final letter and watching the Reeses unravel from it's placeholder, dropping into the basket.

"You sure about that?" Stiles watched her. "That's my Reeses by the way."

"You owe me one." Emma pushed open the flap, grabbing the packet.

"I do not." Stiles followed her as she began to walk towards Lydia.

"You sure about that?" Emma stole his earlier remark, and bit into the chocolate happily.

"That wasn't cute." Stiles was now walking beside her, looking down.

"Neither was your '_I think we have a connection_' line, but you don't see me saying anything.." Emma took another bite and Stiles' head shot up.

"I knew it! You were spying on me!" Stiles stopped in front of her.

"Oh _yeah_, because when a person confesses their love publicly in the middle of a hospital, everyone who sees it happen is automatically spying." Emma waved her fingers dramatically, and Stiles realized she had a fair point.

"Alright, well, what are you doing at the hospital then?" He placed his hands on his hips.

"I'm with Lydia and Allison. We're picking up Jackson." Shoving the entirety of the rest of the Reeses into her mouth, her mood grew grimm at the reminder of why she was there.

"You and Lydia are_ hanging out_? I thought you two hated each other?" Stiles was as confused as Emma still was.

"Yeah, I know. But, Allison begged me to try and get along with her, so.. I'm taking one for the team." It came out muffled due to the chocolate in her mouth, but she continued anyways. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Stiles' cheeks grew red, and his mouth began opening and closing as he attempted to talk. "S—Scott was, dropping off some food to his mom, since she works the night shift."

"She's not coming to the game?" Emma swallowed the contents in her mouth and began reaching for the other half of her Reeses cups.

"She is." Stiles really had to get his story straight.

"Then why..—" Emma was cut off by Lydia's voice, and she looked over Stiles' shoulder to see Jackson walking towards the Strawberry blonde, rubbing his shoulder.

"Did they do it?" Lydia asked, her purse hanging limply on her arm.

"He said not to make a habit of it but one Cortisone shot won't kill me.." He grumbled.

"You should get one right before the game too," Lydia puckered her lips in self approval, and Jackson slid his hand off his shoulder with a dirty look. "The _pros_ do it all the time." When Jackson rolled his eyes, Lydia crossed her arms. "You wanna be a little high school amateur? Or..." Lydia reached over, clumping his shirt into her fingertips and pulling him forward. "Do you want to go..._Pro_?" Then before Emma could look away, Lydia's lips were crashing onto his.

Stiles frowned at her reaction, "What..?" He turned around and froze, seeing the couple eating each other's faces.

"_Gag me._" Emma whispered, and she could see Allison appear from the bathroom up ahead. It didn't take the brunette long to see what Emma and Stiles were, and her lip curled in disgust.

Scott popped up in front of the two, and Emma and Stiles jumped backwards.

"Holy—_God_." Stiles let out a shaky breath.

"Hey Emma," Scott said so quick, Emma almost was sure she'd imagined it. "Stiles, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Y—Yeah?" Stiles got out, just before Scott gripped his sleeve and yanked him in the other direction.

Emma looked after them, not even wanting to know at this point what was so urgent. She looked back to see Jackson and Lydia had finally pulled apart upon Allison's return, and she walked over now that it was safe.

"Was that Scott?" Allison was still looking past Emma as she stopped beside her.

"Yeah. He and Stiles were _apparently_ here to drop off something for his mom." Emma tossed the empty packet of Reeses in the trash.

"You guys ready?" Lydia's arm was looped around Jackson's good one, and the boy was still wiping her lip gloss off his lips.

"Why is _she_ here?" Jackson nodded to Emma.

"Jackson, don't be rude." Lydia snipped.

"But you're the one who—" He looked back and forth, and then shook his head. "You know what? I don't even care."

Lydia giggled, happy that he'd brushed it off. "C'mon. Let's get you home so you can prep for_ your_ big game."

Emma ignored the look of doubt that flashed over Jackson's features, and followed her three friends out.

It hadn't taken them long to drop Jackson off, and when they did Lydia had stepped out to participate in yet another make out session. It was almost _disgusting_ how much they couldn't stop. It was even worse that it held them up another 10 minutes, because Lydia insisted she needed to fix her lipstick before she arrived home. It didn't even make sense. She'd said multiple times her mom wouldn't be home, so who did she have to look well kept for? Emma assumed it was just a popular girl thing. Always having to look your best for absolutely nobody.

By the time they finally reached Lydia's house, Emma had regretted agreeing to hang out. The house seemed smaller in the day time, but even then it was large. And very white. It almost looked too beautiful to be in the neighborhood it was in. Which said a lot considering Lydia's neighborhood was filled to the brim with those of the higher class. Emma felt out of place. Her parents made a lot of money. Probably more then Lydia's parents salaries combined. But with the hospital bills, her parents had decided to settle some place smaller then they could have afforded typically. In the long run, it'd been a good choice. But in situations such as these, Emma just wanted to sink through the leather in Lydia's car.

They walked into the house, carrying the signs, and Lydia stepped out of her heels, her feet pit-pattering on her marble floor. "You can take those upstairs to my room. I'm going to grab something to eat.." Running her fingers through her hair she stopped short, turning to them. "Do you want anything?"

"Uh," Allison puffed out her cheeks. "What are the options?"

"Let's see," Lydia began listing off things on her fingers. "For food, you've got breakfast bars, veggies, peanuts, crackers and brie...And then for drinks we've got, liquor, cranberry juice, and water. Take your pick."

"It all sounds so.. _healthy_." Allison laughed. Lydia wasn't amused. "Uhm, I'll take a breakfast bar and some water."

Lydia took in her request in her head and then turned to Emma.

"Oh, are you sure?" Emma couldn't imagine Lydia offering her food. It just didn't work in her head.

Lydia seemed annoyed with the question. "Well you don't expect us to just eat away while you sit twiddling your thumbs, do you?"

"No, I guess not..." Emma rubbed her lips together.

"Then..._Do you want anything_?" Lydia bobbed her head, flicking her hand out.

"...Some brie and cranberry juice would be great, thanks.." It took Emma a bit to respond, but when she did she was almost relieved that Lydia hadn't thought anything of it. Lydia just looked surprised at her choice.

"Huh. Okay. Water, Cranberry juice, Bar, and Brie.." She went over it aloud. "Got it." And then she turned, shimmying into the kitchen and leaving Allison and Emma on the stairs.

Allison was practically beaming at the fact that Lydia had been the closest to nice just then, and Emma looked up at her.

"Don't get excited. Offering food, is hardly means to start a friendship." Emma walked up the stairs, Allison walking after her. The stairs were carpeted, and Emma ignored how her feet sunk into it.

Allison showed the way to Lydia's room, although it wasn't hard to find. It was the one with the big pink **L** on the door. They pushed through the door, dropping the signs next to her desk, and sighing tirelessly.

"I'd give anything for my bed." Emma dropped her head back, whimpering slightly.

"God, tell me about it." Allison walked over to the window seat, pushing a stuffed bear aside to sit atop it. "Isn't this house amazing?"

"Yeah, when there aren't 100 teens getting drunk and high in it," Emma rested her arm against Lydia's dresser. "Have you been here since then?"

"Once or twice." Allison nodded, "But only for an hour or so.. She hates being in her house when her mom's not here."

"_Why_?" Emma couldn't imagine hating being in this house. Hell, if her parents left her alone she would run around dancing and screaming just to hear the echo that bounced off the walls.

"Don't know. She doesn't really say much about it. Then again, Lydia doesn't say much about anything.." Allison pulled her knees to her chest.

"_Yeah_.." It wasn't like Emma knew, but most popular kids had a whole other world they didn't let people see into. And she figured Lydia's reason for hating being home alone, had something to do with that version of her world.

"Do you think I should kiss Scott?" Allison asked suddenly, and Emma felt her voice get caught in her throat.

"What?"

"I mean it's been a few weeks now that we've been talking. And—we always hold hands when we're together. If you think about it, Lydia's party was _kind of_ a date...Do you think it's time I kissed him?" Allison was like a little girl, who was wondering if it was okay to like the boy who picks his scabs on the playground.

Emma was far from the person she should be asking. If there was anyone who knew anything about relationships, it wasn't her. "Well... Do you like him?" _Stupid question_.

"Of course I like him. I just don't know if I should _kiss_ him." Allison explained, even though Emma fully understood what her question was.

"Who are we kissing?" Lydia walked into the room, a tray of food in her hands as she kicked the door close with her foot. Emma had never felt happier to see her.

"Allison, is asking if she should kiss Scott!" Emma looked at Allison, who's eyes grew wide. Maybe she hadn't wanted Lydia knowing that, but it was the only way she was going to get a proper answer.

Lydia sat the tray on the floor, pulling a blanket off the end of her bed and sitting down on her carpet. Emma watched as she curled her legs beneath the blanket, and reached for a cracker. "You haven't kissed him already!?" Lydia looked at Allison with shock, cutting off a piece of brie without looking and lathering it over the cracker.

"I—Should I have?" Allison jumped up from the window seat, and slid onto the floor across from Lydia, desperate for answers. "I just didn't know, yano, because... Well, it's not like we're_ dating_."

"_Sweetheart_, let me be the first to tell you, you don't have to be dating to kiss someone," Lydia laughed, placing the cracker in her mouth and chomping down.

"Wait, really?" Emma was suddenly interested, sitting next to Allison on the floor, and looking at Lydia who had stopped mid-chew to stare at the girls before her.

"Seriously?_ You _too?" Lydia finished chewing, wiping her hands on a napkin. "What have you two never had an experience with boys or something?"

"Of course I have, but we never really reach that point. I move too much for that..." Allison reached for her breakfast bar, and tore it open. Emma was afraid to answer the question.

"You poor things," Lydia cracked open her water bottle and guzzled some down. "Okay, so here's how this goes. You don't have to be dating, but if you two are acting the way you've been, I assume you're not that far off," Allison blushed. "Now, if you like him, _kiss him_. Hell, do more if you feel comfortable. You'll feel so great afterwards,—Unless he sucks. I suggest going in with low expectations. After all, this is _McCall_." Lydia closed her water back up. "It's _never_ too soon to make the first move.." Emma wasn't sure if she agreed with that, but what did she know? "Take me and Jackson for instance; We nipped our first kiss in the bud on our first date. Now look where we are." She smirked.

"_So..._ I definitely should kiss him?" Allison lowered her head, looking for a final answer.

"Oh _yeah_," Lydia nodded. "Preferably before the game too. I always give Jackson one before he starts. It gets him pumped."

"I don't know about that. My dad will be there...Maybe I'll wait until after." Allison bit off from her bar, looking at the carpet as she thought about how she was going to go about kissing Scott.

"Hm. Suit yourself." Lydia flicked crumbs off her blanket, "What about you Emma?"

_"Me?"_ Emma sat up straighter.

"Yeah. You got anyone you wanna kiss?" It was an odd question, especially coming from Lydia.

"God, _No_. I'm good." She grabbed the brie knife, breaking off a piece.

Lydia kept her eyes on her, and Emma felt like she was suddenly under inspection. "Really? _Nobody_ in mind?"

"Not unless you know something I don't..." Emma tilted her chin up, trying her best to remain clueless.

"Huh." Lydia clicked her tongue, and then broke their gaze. "Anyways, what are you wearing to the game?" She looked to Allison.

"_This_..?" Allison pulled on her shirt.

"False. You can borrow something of mine..." Lydia began to explain the reasons why Allison couldn't show up to the game in the same outfit she wore to school, but Emma checked out.

Because maybe she did have someone in mind.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Long chapter, I know, but I hope you enjoyed it. I really liked writing this chapter. I don't know why but there was just something about it. I hope you caught some of the hints about what I'm planning to do in terms of unraveling Lydia's character. Lydia Martin has always been a girl of many layers, and I plan to show those. She can't be a mean girl forever, as we all know. Thank you to those who reviewed. It really makes my day to just come home and see an extra review waiting in my inbox. Please make sure to continue reviewing, I really do take all of your input into consideration! I love you! I love you! X**


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